


Let's Get Screwed (I don't care)

by lesbianbean



Series: you want the world/well what's it worth? [12]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, American Politics, Angst with a Happy Ending, Assassination Attempt(s), Breakfast Food, Breakups, F/F, Fighting, Galas, Hate Sex, Hospitals, Pining, Political Campaigns, Rule 63, canon mashup, complicated feelings, emo phone calls, poor communication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2019-11-18 06:23:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 34,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18115097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianbean/pseuds/lesbianbean
Summary: The headlines from that campaign were particularly over-the-top, even for an election season. But they didn't even come close to telling the whole story.The story of Starscream's campaign for Congress--also a campaign from hell.





	1. Chapter 1

“Have you been following the congressional race going on in District 12 of California?” Starscream’s voice was deceptively casual but neither of them made casual conversation when they were reviewing bills. Especially not when they’d been going at a thousand-page piece of legislation that would re-shape education in America. Megatron took off her reading glasses and rubbed her temples, reaching over to take a sip of her coffee.

“I’m a little busy with trying to remodel our country’s crumbling schools, Starscream.”

“All right, I’ll tell you. Representative Jones is in his eighties, and he announced that he wants to step down this cycle.” She paused like she was expecting Megatron to respond to that. “ And I want to run for his seat. It’s San Francisco. I know I can win. This race was practically designed for me.” She bounced a little. “I wrote a memo about it, it’s in your private inbox.”

Her coffee was cold, and it wasn’t sitting well on her empty stomach.“When would you be starting your campaign?”

“I was thinking I could turn in my formal resignation next Friday and then officially announce the Monday after.”

“That’s--" Something was caught in her throat and she took another sip of her cold coffee. "That's soon.”

“I don’t want to be behind on fundraising, and you know how every day can make a difference.”

“Do you have a copy of the--”

Starscream put it on the desk in front of her, and she pushed her laptop aside to look through it, reaching for her glasses. Even with them on, the words were too small. She needed to have a talk with Starscream about her font size preferences. And her excessive use of graphs.

“Well?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“What?”

“Stay on as my chief of staff, and we can reassess in two years.”

“But--Senator, in two years there’ll be someone else in the seat. _My_ seat. I’m not going to have an opportunity like this again. And I want to run during a presidential cycle, not a midterm cycle.”

“That’s ridiculous, Starscream.”

“Don’t call me--”

“Trust me, all right? You don’t want to share the spotlight with a presidential race.”

Starscream put her hands on her hips, her bracelets clanking together. “I want people to know about me and for that to happen people need to be paying attention.”

“I’ll help finance your race, Starscream. You’ll have plenty of money to advertise as much as you want.”

“I don’t need your help fundraising, I know plenty of donors. That’s not--that’s not the point! I spent weeks on this plan before bringing it to you, and all you can do is tell me to wait _two years_?”

“Two years isn’t long, Starscream. In two years, Prime will be on her way out, and my agenda will be in a good place. It’s better for our party.”

“Fuck the party.”

“Starscream.”

“Seriously, what is your problem? ”

Megatron sighed. “You’re really going to make me say it?”

“Say what, exactly?”

“You’re not ready, Starscream. You’re reckless, you rush into things before you have the whole picture, you take everything personally. You wouldn’t be able to pull it off now.”

“Excuse me? I’m not--I brought you the West Coast bloc for this stupid education bill, I rewrote the infrastructure legislation when it was falling apart, and I shut down that debt ceiling nightmare you got us into last year!”

“You’re not mentioning how you nearly blew up those negotiations on the debt ceiling or failed to deliver the military appropriations you promised me you could get.”.

“You looked me in the eye two years ago on election night and told me you’d support me when I wanted to run.”

“I told you I’d support you when you’re ready. You’re not.” Megatron swallowed, trying to clear the acidic taste out of her mouth.

“Who are you to tell me if I’m ready or not?”

“Well, you clearly don’t have any idea, which should tell you everything you need to know about what kind of a congresswoman you’d be.”

Starscream took a step back, looking like Megatron had slapped her. “Go to hell.”

Megatron turned away from her on the pretense of picking up another folder. The office door slammed behind her, sounding like a gunshot. She could still taste the coffee in the back of her throat, bitter and acidic.

* * *

 

Skywarp had just settled in for breakfast--an espresso and a raspberry croissant drizzled with chocolate. TC was always worrying about her sugar intake but it was Friday morning and dammit, she was going to celebrate--when she heard a whimper. She looked down and sure enough, Buster was sitting at her feet, staring at her with heart-melting brown eyes.

“Absolutely not.” He whimpered again, cocking his giant ears forward. “No.” There was a long moment. “Okay, fine.” She tore off a piece of her croissant, making sure it didn’t have chocolate on it and offered it to the dog. Buster happily ate it, and she scratched behind his ears. “Just don’t tell your mom.”

The crispy brown ends of the croissant were her favorite part and she was dunking one of them in her espresso when her phone loudly blasted Britney Spears’ “Toxic.” She grabbed it, grinning.

“Screamer!”

“Don’t call me that.” Her sister sounded angry, which wasn’t new, but there was something else in her voice.

She rocked her chair back, licking the sticky raspberry remains of her pastry off her fingers. “Are you hyped, Madam Congresswoman? We just rented out office space in that gorgeous building for the campaign office, the one you said had a good view?”

“Did you sign a non-renewable lease?”

“A what?”

“I’m not running, Skywarp.”

Skywarp was struck by a vivid memory of the last time she’d heart that defeated note in Starscream’s voice. It was the night after Skyfire had left for Greenland when she’d stopped by Starscream’s apartment and found her sister sitting on her kitchen floor with a bottle of vodka with swollen red eyes. _Oh_. Skywarp leaned forward, her chair legs thunking on the kitchen floor. “Hold on. We’ve been planning this for months, why the hell are you doing a 180? Did someone say something?”

“No! No one said something, why the hell would you assume someone said something?”

“Okay...” So someone definitely said something. “So you just decided to throw your plans out the window for no reason?”

Starscream sighed, and Starscream could picture her rolling her eyes. “I’m not saying never, I’m just saying not now.”

“You? You’re saying not now? You hate not now.”

“I can be practical, Warp.”

“First of all: no, no you can’t. Second: why would you be? This is the perfect cycle for you to run. And third, um— “

She paused, and her sister cleared her throat on the other end of the line. “Third?”

“Look, you should run, okay?”

“Convincing.”

“I don’t know what’s made you change your mind but you can do this, okay? I know you better than anyone.“ Starscream snorted derisively. “Shut up, you know it’s true. I held your hair back when you threw up at Mom and Dad’s stupid parties and I paid people off to invite you to stuff when we were in college and watched you bitch-slap a bunch of people at Tarn Industries who were twice your age--I know you.”

“Skywarp, this isn’t Rocky.”

So much for the carrot. Time for the stick. “Look, if it was me, you’d tell me to stop being a little bitch and get on the next plane to San Francisco.”

“Warp, I swear--”

“Screamer, if you really don’t want to run, that’s okay. I mean yeah, TC and I would be kind of bummed because I know she was super excited about running your campaign but we’ll get over it. But if you’re not running for some other dumb reason than maybe, you know, get rid of the reason instead of your plans.”

There was a long pause, and then—“What the fuck does that even mean?”

Skywarp wasn’t actually sure. She tried to sound mysterious. “You know what means.”

Starscream hung up.

* * *

Megatron was surprised when Starscream showed up at her apartment. Usually, she didn’t come by after they’d fought.

“Do you want a drink? Or are you just here to yell?”

“Neither.” Starscream wrapped her arms around Megatron’s neck, pulling her down for a kiss. Megatron kissed back, startled, gasping a little when Starscream bit her lip. She stroked the younger woman’s cheek when they broke apart.

“So that’s what you’re here for.”

“Don’t get sentimental on me, Megatron. Come on.”

Megatron tried to scoop her up, but Starscream stepped around her, pulling her back towards the bedroom. “Just--come on.”

Megatron looked down at her manicured nails, crumpling the neat grey ironed fabric of her blazer lapels. “All right.”

Megatron let Starscream tug her back, step by step, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor. She bent down to kiss her again as they crossed the threshold to her bedroom, but Starscream pulled away after only a second and spun her around. There was a determined glint in her eyes. Starscream pushed Megatron’s blazer off and began to unbutton her shirt. “Is there a reason for this, princess?”

“Shut up.” Starscream shoved her and she fell back on the bed, caught off guard. “Just--can we not talk? For an hour?”

Interesting. She crooked her finger. “Come here, and I promise I’ll be very quiet.”

The next few hours were quite enjoyable. The odd intensity coursing through Starscream puzzled her. Starscream normally wasn’t very dominant in bed, but that night she was pushy, holding Megatron’s wrists over her head with one hand and tracing the lines on her face with the other, brushing feather-light kisses over her neck and collarbone.

Afterward, she rested her head on Megatron’s chest, and Megatron absentmindedly stroked her dark hair. Starscream made a soft contented sound, like a cat. “What are you thinking about, Starscream?”

“Just the hospital legislation.” She wouldn’t meet Megatron’s eyes, and the senator sighed, bracing for another argument.

“My answer is still no, regarding your campaign in district 12.”

“Yeah, I know.” Starscream’s voice sounded distant. “What time is it?”

Megatron had been braced for another screaming match and felt a little off-balance, rolling over to check her phone. “Two, I think.”

“That’s late.”

“Stay.” She hadn’t realized she had said the words out loud until Starscream looked at her in surprise, propping herself up on her elbow.

“What was that?”

“It’s raining. I can drive you to work tomorrow.”

Starscream bit her lip and Megatron watched the emotions play across her lovely face. “All right.”

Megatron kissed her, curling her fingers into her hair and pressing their bodies together, breathing in the scent of her perfume. She felt a sense of desperation that she didn’t completely understand, so she just pulled her chief of staff closer, letting their foreheads bump together and thinking all of the words she couldn’t say.

__

When she woke up the next morning, the first thing she noticed was that Starscream wasn’t there. She didn’t think much of it. Her chief of staff often slipped out of bed to go to the gym or get breakfast before the day started. The next thing she noticed was that she had seven messages from Soundwave, which was unusual. Soundwave rarely left messages. She hit “play.”.

“Senator. Office situation: has changed. Starscream: informed me a half-hour ago that she is resigning, effective immediately. She plans to announce her campaign for Congress later today--”

Megatron dropped her phone with a clatter, and rushed across the room to her laptop, biting down on the inside of her cheek as she waited for her email inbox to refresh. Sure enough, there was an email from Starscream.

_Dear Senator,_

_I am writing to inform you that I am resigning my position as chief of staff effective immediately, as I will be running for office in California’s 12th congressional district. Thank you for the support and the opportunities you have provided me with over the past six years. I hope we can work together in the future._

“That fucking _bitch_.”

Megatron grabbed the nearest object--a mug still half-full of coffee--and hurled it at the wall, relishing the crash, and then slammed her laptop shut. She thought back on Starscream’s face the night before, the overwhelming feeling of urgency, of desperation, and she understood. Starscream hadn’t forgiven her. She was saying goodbye.

Megatron bit down harder on the inside of her cheek, tasting blood-- _resigning my position_. She didn’t feel it, though-- _effective immediately._ The “low battery” light on her laptop blinked mockingly at her and she threw that into the wall too.

Her room still smelled like Starscream’s perfume. She could see a crumpled towel on the floor of her bathroom, from where the traitor had been that morning, hours ago, because she always showered in both the mornings and the evenings. Using up the hot water--

Megatron threw open her bedroom window, breathing in lungfuls of the frigid air. She couldn’t stay here. Not today. Her phone was still lying under her desk and she fired off a text to Soundwave canceling her morning appointments. She knew the owner of a small shooting range in Maryland who owed her a favor and spending the morning there would doubtlessly be a better way to address the black hole that had opened up in her chest than drinking herself into a stupor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, another multichaptered fic! This one is a bit longer and more plot-heavy than the last one, but don't worry, there will be plenty of wlw content. It's been a lot of fun to write and I hope that you enjoy reading it. I don't want to spoil everything or blast you with a huge block of tags so I'll add them as I add the relevant chapters.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is brought to you by breakfast food! Breakfast food: the best cure for hangovers, jet lag, and missing your complicated relationship with your boss.

Starscream was in a rare good mood as she locked her apartment door and started the short walk to the campaign office. They were doing well with social media, thanks to Skywarp. And Thundercracker was a good campaign manager--her latest plan was recruiting volunteers from the community college where she’d been taking writing classes, and it had been surprisingly effective.

She’d missed San Francisco too, especially the way the city was in the early morning when the sun was just beginning to rise. On an impulse, she stopped at a breakfast place across the street from their new office building, lured in by the smell of fresh bread and olive oil. It was decorated with succulents and black-and-white pictures of the Golden Gate Bridge and the paper bag of croque monsieurs the tired-looking barista handed her smelled incredible.

The lights were still off in the campaign headquarters, but she could see the light of Thundercracker’s laptop. And of course, Buster was there. He barked cheerfully at her and she rolled her eyes at him, hoping he’d get the hint. Animals didn’t usually like her very much--a memory of Ravage hissing at her and Megatron laughing sprung unbidden to her mind and she cleared her throat, trying to push the image away. Skywarp stuck her head out of one of the offices. “Is that breakfast?”

She held up the bag as an affirmative while trying to dodge Buster, who was happily weaving in and out of her legs.

Skywarp grabbed for the bag. “Thanks, Screamer.”

Her good mood vanished and she pulled it away. “If you’re going to call me that, you can get your own breakfast.”

“Hey!” Skywarp made another grab for the bag, and Starscream dodged.

“Nope. You don’t deserve croque monsieurs.”

Thundercracker gestured vaguely from her desk, not looking up from the email she was writing. “Knock it off, you two.”

“Shut up, TC.”

“Hey, that’s my wife you’re talking to!” Skywarp caught the handle of the bag of sandwiches and yanked, nearly pulling Starscream off her feet.

Starscream tightened her grip on the bag, glaring at her sister.  “Do you have to call her ‘your wife’ every five fucking minutes?”

“I’m sorry you’re jealous of our love, Screamer.”

“Don’t fucking call me that!”

At that point, the bag, stretched to its limit, split in half, and the argument was quickly abandoned in favor of rescuing the sandwiches from Buster.

“I don’t see why your pet has to be in my campaign office.”

“He gets lonely.” Thundercracker scooped up Buster, kissing him on the nose. “Don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Disgusting.” Starscream took a bite of her sandwich and perched on Thundercracker’s desk, crossing her legs. “How are we doing on social media?”

“The campaign app already has a hundred downloads.”

“Why only a hundred?”

“Because normal people don’t think about congressional elections for more than five minutes.”

Starscream groaned and let her head fall down on the desk with a clunk.

“There, there.” Thundercracker patted her on the head. “I have more from the latest polls.”

“Fine.”

“So your big strengths are your experience in Washington and your long-lasting connections to San Francisco. And your big weaknesses are coming off as elitist or people digging too deeply into why you left the Majority Leader’s office.”

Starscream looked over the folder Thundercracker handed her, raising an eyebrow. “Why would stepping down to run for office be newsworthy?”

“Screamer. Come on.”

“What?”

Thundercracker sighed, exasperated, and Skywarp jumped in. “What my wife is trying to say is that you don’t want this campaign to be about you and your ex.”

Starscream laughed incredulously. “What do you mean, my  _ex_? Megatron was my boss, not my—”

Thundercracker and Skywarp looked nervously at each other. “Don’t look at each other like that!”

“Okay, fine. Let’s put a pin in that.” Thundercracker pulled two binders out from under her desk and dropped them next to Starscream with a clunk. “These are compilations of the ins and outs of city politics and what’s going on in the state house next session. Memorize them. And—” She dropped another binder on top of the first with an even louder clunk. “ _These_ are donors. Politicians. Activists. California movers and shakers. You need to be spending at least three hours on the phone every day talking about who you are and why you’re running.”

“How many of these binders do you have?”

“Ten so far. They’re color-coded. Green is important contacts, yellow is state legislation, orange is city legislation, purple is Vos related--Skywarp can you get Buster?”

Skywarp scooped up Buster before he could sink his teeth into a corner of the yellow “state” binder and sat down on one of the sleek-looking swivel chairs, scratching behind the dog’s ears.

Starscream swept the binders into her red leather bag. “TC, I want to call you after I meet the United Educators, okay? And, um, get us in touch with the Wiring the Future union. I want to talk more about technological infrastructure in San Francisco, it’s the cornerstone of my platform.”

“Of course. Um, look, before we go--” Thundercracker tore a corner off her sandwich and held it out to Buster, who happily devoured it. “We need to talk about endorsements.”

Starscream shook her head. “I’m not calling--”

“I didn’t mean Megatron! There’s another endorsement you should go for.”

“Who?”

“The mayor of San Francisco. Windblade. He’s running for reelection but it’s just for show, given his approval ratings. People call him ‘the voice of the city.’ ”

“Nice. So should I what, stop by City Hall?”

“I have a better idea. The San Francisco Symphony is opening tonight. There’s a gala. Windblade never misses it. They’re doing _An American in Paris_ this year. Do you like Gershwin?”

“Not particularly.” She wasn’t a fan of old-fashioned music. Megatron probably would have known who Gershwin was--actually, Starscream would have bet money that it was one of the old vinyl albums the majority leader had at her house in Texas.

“Screamer.” Skywarp snapped her fingers in her sister’s face and Starscream jumped.

“What?”

“Gala. Tonight.”

She sighed. “Fine. I want you two there too in case there are more donors.”

“Already got two more tickets.” Thundercracker held up an envelope.

Skywarp leaned across the desk to kiss her. “My wife is so smart. Isn’t she, Screamer?”  
Starscream made a gagging noise and bolted.

* * *

_An American In Paris_ had been surprisingly interesting, Starscream thought although not as fun as watching the crowd in the theater. Crowd watching was how she handled boring rallies and events at the Kennedy Center in Washington. She’d noticed that more people snuck away in pairs in San Francisco, but fewer people snuck alcohol into the theater.

“Screamer.” Skywarp popped up next to her. She’d unbuttoned the purple blazer she was wearing—the exact same color as her lipstick and the highlights woven into her box braids, Starscream noted. Skywarp almost always wore something purple. “Is that your second glass of champagne?”

She took another deliberate sip. “What about it?”

Her sister plucked it out of her hand. “You’re not a behind-the-scenes person anymore. Go talk to Windblade before you get drunk. You’re stressing out my wife and she won’t dance with me.”

The mayor was dancing with his husband across the room. Starscream glanced at him, and then back at her sister. “He totally went to that same dance class Mom and Dad made us do.”

“I was thinking the same thing!” Skywarp drank the rest of Starscream’s champagne and put the empty glass on a nearby tray. “You can use that, right?”

Starscream smoothed out her glittery red dress.  “Absolutely.”

She worked her way through the crowd, smiling and tossing out compliments. It took her only five minutes to catch Windblade’s eye. He shook hands with the smiling woman he was talking to and casually walked over.

“I remember you. You were standing behind Megatron when she gave that press conference about Prime’s budget. And--before the government shutdown, you went on _Meet the Press_ and called the diplomacy plan--”

“-- Pie-in-the-sky, yes that was me.” _Smile,_ Starscream reminded herself. “And you gave a press conference about the earthquake last year. So we’ve both seen each other on the TV.”

The mayor glanced around the room. “It’s hot in here. Would you like to step outside? Get some fresh air?”

“I’d love to.”

The air was warm and Starscream could feel a breeze on her cheeks that smelled faintly like salt.

“Do you miss Washington?”

“Are you kidding? Every day, I say a prayer thanking the gods that I’m somewhere that doesn’t feel like the inside of a teapot. It’s so fucking humid there, you have no idea.”

“Huh.” Windblade looked impassively at the city skyline.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s just funny, you supposedly hate Washington but you’re trying like hell to get back there.”

Starscream snorted, propping her elbow on the railing. “I hate it, but I still want to be there.”

She hadn’t planned on saying that. This must have been why Skywarp told her to not to drink too much. You made quips at galas, not vague philosophical statements.

“Still. There’s plenty you could do here--the party would be happy to have someone like you in this state.”

“It’ll be a cold day in hell before I work for the party.”

Windblade took a sip of his drink, swirling the amber liquid in the glass. “I see.”

 _Enough with the small talk._ “What do you want, Windblade?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re smart. Smarter than most politicians, and I’ve met quite a few. An impressive resume. State delegate, state senator, and now mayor. You’re progressive, but not enough to scare donors. You’ve got connections to the White House, but you don’t associate yourself too directly with Prime.” Starscream watched his face. “Everything you do suggests you know how to climb.”

Windblade’s face didn’t betray anything. “You know, Starscream, not everyone is you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I care about more things than just myself.”

“That’s precious. Look, I know you want something. You don’t go into this line of work just because you want to help people. Come on, Windblade. Help me help you.”

“Does this usually work on people?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“The whole ‘we can rule the galaxy together’ routine.”

“I fail to see how suggesting a mutually beneficial partnership makes me Darth Vader.”

Windblade silently threw back his drink and turned back to the French doors. “Nice talking to you, Starscream.”

Panic rose up in her throat. _God_ , she hated this. It was so much easier when she didn’t have to try to make people like her. “Wait!”

The mayor turned, raising his eyebrows. “Yes?”

“Look, I’m not--If you’re waiting for me to be a sincere person who’s only in this to make the world a better place, you’re going to be waiting for like, a long fucking time. But even if I’m not a good person, I’m someone you want to have on your team. If you’re smart. And I don’t know, you seem pretty smart.”

“Alrighty then.” Windblade opened the door, gesturing at her to join him. “Why don’t we take advantage of the live music and you can tell me about this broadband internet plan I keep getting ads from you about?”

Starscream could hear the strains of a waltz and remembered her earlier conversation with Skywarp. “Did your mother put you in dance lessons?”

“How did you know?”

* * *

Thundercracker woke up to Buster’s cold wet nose pressed against her face and a pounding headache. She sat up, absently stroking at the dog’s head, and groaned.

“Morning, babe!” Skywarp bounded into their bedroom in her workout clothes, her braids pulled back into a ponytail. She looked like a vision, Thundercracker hazily thought.

“How are you not dying? Or dead? You drank more than me.”

“You’re such a lightweight.” Skywarp kissed her on the forehead and grabbed her elbow, pulling her out of bed. “C’mon. I got us Egg McMuffins.”

That was probably the only think Thundercracker could imagine eating at the moment. “How are you so perfect?”

“ _You’re_ perfect.”

“Stop it.” She sat down at their kitchen island and unwrapped the sandwich, moaning around the first mouthful. Skywarp laughed, rummaging in the fridge.

“You even make hangovers sound sexy.”

Thundercracker snorted and pulled out her phone, scrolling through the news alerts while Skywarp fished eggs and hot sauce out of the fridge.

“Anything new?” Skywarp cracked an egg into one of their juice glasses.

“Just the education bill. Prime and Megatron have stalled out over unfunded mandates.”

“Ah, yes, unfunded mandates. Which are...”

Starscream’s voice cut in before Thundercracker could answer. “They induce action on a state and local government level without providing funding for said action.” She was leaning on the doorway, looking like she’d been hit by a truck, wearing a truly bewildering combination of the ancient periodic table hoodie she slept in and her heels from the night before. “I think I’m going to puke.”

“Here, eat this.” Skywarp tossed her an Egg McMuffin, which she fumbled and had to snatch off the floor before Buster could get to it. He yipped angrily at her and Starscream clutched her head, glaring at Skywarp.

“You’re killing me, you know that? You’re killing your sister.”

“You’ll live. Anyway, TC, tell her the good news!”  
“The endorsement is locked in. Chromia sent me a confirmation email at midnight last night, so it’s in writing. And...” She paused for dramatic effect. “The head of the Wiring the Future labor group was also there and he wants a meeting with you!” Thundercracker pulled out one of the stools for Starscream, who flopped into it.

“Hmph.” Starscream took a bite of one of the hashbrowns and her expression softened. “Okay, that’s good.” She pushed the other hashbrown towards Thundercracker.

“In other news, I think we should push for more funding for broadband in schools. With a news cycle about education funding, it’s a good time for it. And...” Thundercracker scrolled down to the New York Times “Opinions” section and her nausea came rushing back. “Crap.”

Starscream moved faster than anyone should with a hangover, hovering over her shoulder like a velociraptor from Jurassic Park. “What is it?”

“Stay calm, Screamer, okay?”

“I’ll stay calm after I see what it is.”

“It’s just Maureen Dowd, okay? She’s a relic from the nineties, no one--”

Starscream snatched her phone. “Starscream of Vos: candidate for Congress, political insider, and _crazy ex-girlfriend_?”

“Screamer, calm--”

“I’d like to see _you_ stay calm when there’s a columnist for the New York fucking Times calling you a--” she jabbed her finger at the laptop screen. “--conniving manipulator of powerful older women. And, holy _shit,_ she compared me to Glenn Close in _Fatal Attraction?_ ”

“Screamer--”

“This is _outrageous!_ I’m calling my lawyer.”

Skywarp reached out for her sister, who dodged. “No, you can’t do that. Hey.” She managed to snatch Thundercracker’s phone back and Starscream glared at her. “Screamer, nothing looks crazier than threatening with lawyers. Think for a second, okay?”

“I’m not going to just sit here and let her make it look like I’m running for office because I’m a woman scorned!”

“Okay.” Thundercracker grabbed the back of Starscream’s hoodie and pulled her back onto the stool. “Listen to me.”

“I’m not--”

“Starscream, listen to me. You need to call the majority leader’s office and get her endorsement.” Starscream opened her mouth and Thundercracker shook her head, forcing down her hangover. “Let me finish. Plan an event. Have it be formal--underscore the professional nature of your relationship. You both give speeches. Professional ones. If you do it right, you’ll get some good pictures, the political papers will run a story, and then everyone will move on.”

“I told you, I want to do this without her.”

“One of the major components of your campaign is you have experience in Washington. And the best way to show that is--”

“--No.”

“The best way to show that is an endorsement from the majority leader.”

“No.”

“Starscream, this isn’t an optional thing--”

“ _No._ You’re my campaign manager, aren’t you? You’re supposed to handle stuff like this, right? So get me another endorsement.”

“Please, just think about--”

“I’m not going to stop saying no.”

Thundercracker took a deep breath, counted to ten, and plastered on a smile. “What’s really going on here, Screamer?”

“I don’t want to win on the shoulders of Meg--of the fucking majority leader! Is that really so hard to believe?”

Skywarp quietly slid a prairie oyster across the island to Thundercracker, which she gratefully gulped down, and turned to her sister-in-law. “Was she a bad boss?”

“Yes, she was terrible! She yelled at me for everything, and blamed me for things that weren’t my fault, and told me I didn’t have what it took to run even though I spent six fucking years working my ass off to get her everything she wanted on her stupid political agenda.”  
“Okay.” Thundercracker tried to put the pieces together. “In that case do you want to go after Prime’s endorsement? She might go for it--”

“ _No!_ ” Starscream’s voice rose in pitch. “I’m not--I fucking _wrote_ most of Megatron’s platform. The shit she’s going to push for in this election cycle? It was _me._ She doesn’t get to have that.”

“Huh.” Skywarp put a prairie oyster in front of Starscream, who ignored it. “Weird to see you actually believing in something.”

“Fuck off.”

“You fuck off.”

Thundercracker cleared her throat. “Okay so she was a bad boss who took you for granted, and that’s why you don’t want her endorsement?”

“Ugh.” Starscream took a bite of her Egg McMuffin and then shoved it away, burying her head in her hands. Thundercracker reached out to pat her shoulder but stopped when she saw her wife making a rapid throat-cutting gesture.

Buster snuffled around the floor, looking for crumbs. His rapidly beating tail thwacked into Starscream’s ankle and Starscream jumped like she’d forgotten anyone else was there. “Okay. Fine. Do you know how I said that Megatron was only my boss?” She looked back down at her hands. “I might not have been...one hundred percent honest about that.”

Skywarp punched the air. “I fucking knew--” Thundercracker shot her a warning look. “I mean, um, oh my god, really?”

Starscream glared at her. “Look, I don’t want to talk about this, okay? It wasn’t, like, romantic, it was just physical, but I just--I don’t want to ask her for help. I don’t want to ask her for _anything_.”

“Okay.” Thundercracker considered (again) patting Starscream on the shoulder but then decided that would be a good way to get scratched. “Starscream, do you want me to be your friend or your campaign manager right now?”  
Starscream sighed, ripping another hashbrown in half. “Campaign manager, I guess.”

“You can’t have everything you want when you’re running for office. Every day you have ‘no comment’ on your former job, more people are going to jump to this conclusion. It’s an easy connection to draw and people like to draw easy connections. If you want to run for office without Megatron, you’re going to be dodging this rumor every day. If you want to run for office without the rumor, you need to hold an event with Megatron. Those are your options.”

Starscream stared at Thundercracker, clearly weighing her options (Skywarp would later joke that it was her “buffering” face). “Fine.”  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm incapable of writing something without including a gala it seems. (If you don't know who Maureen Dowd is, just think about that friend you have who unironically says she's :) "not like other girls" :) )  
> She wrote a column about Megatron and Optimus titled "The DC Catfight" and both Prowl and Soundwave were woken up to furious phone calls.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starscream attempts to nail down an endorsement while Soundwave deals with Megatron in the wake of their staffing change (which is harder than dealing with a sleep-deprived tiger)

Soundwave couldn’t remember the last time the majority leader had been this angry, for this long. She’d stepped back in as Megatron’s chief of staff “for the time being.” It had been nearly two weeks, and Megatron still hadn’t said Starscream’s name, referring to her as “your predecessor” or “the candidate from District 12.”

Then, on Sunday, Megatron called her. If she had been angry before, now she was furious.

“Did you see the fucking New York Times opinions page?”

“Negative. I only read the news, economics, and business sections.”

“Maureen Dowd wrote about that—that backstabbing Judas bitch and she made me out to be some kind of easily manipulated _idiot_ who falls prey to anyone with a smile and a push-up bra.”

Soundwave pulled up the column and skimmed it, pausing briefly to fire off a text to Shockwave informing her she would likely be late to their Sunday afternoon hike.

She successfully talked Megatron down from calling Maureen Dowd, arguing that doing that would only confirm the rumors.

“The best thing to do would be to quietly endorse--”

Megatron had punched the wall, cracking one of the wood panels. “Soundwave, I will _never_ endorse that bratty, traitorous, overly dramatic--”

“Affirmative.” Soundwave got the majority leader an ice pack for her knuckles, composed a statement for everyone in the office to give if anyone asked about it, and leaked a story about the education bill negotiations to give the press something else to feed on. When she arrived at the Shenandoah National Park trail, Shockwave had given her a sympathetic look and a thermos of her favorite jasmine tea.

It wasn’t their worst Sunday.

* * *

 

Starscream had generously sent her all the projects she was working on before she hopped on a plane to California to go to brunches and read to kindergarteners. And Soundwave knew what she was doing because Megatron asked for a daily one-page report on her campaign. Even though Soundwave had informed her repeatedly she did not have the time.

She printed out the report and left it on Megatron’s desk, on top of the report on the education bill. Megatron swept in fifteen minutes later without a greeting. A moment after she’d entered her office, Soundwave got a text—a photo of the report on top of the education folder.

<Subtle, Soundwave.>

<Senator: has any commentary on the education bill?>

<I’ll read it this morning.> There was a long pause. Soundwave took another sip of her kale smoothie and sent some emails, waiting. <You can stop compiling reports on the District 12 race. I understand you’re busy.>

<Thank you, Senator.>

Soundwave had actually believed things would calm down after that. And then Starscream called her in the middle of her lunch.

“Soundwave. How are the kids?” She paused, clearly waiting for Soundwave’s response. When none came, she cleared her throat, continuing. “I gotta say, I miss the office more than I expected.”

“Really.”

“How are things going?”

“How do you think?”

“Look, I was planning to give notice, but Megatron decided to be an asshole about the whole thing so I decided I needed to put my own needs first. You can’t fault me for that!” Soundwave waited. “Fine, I should have told you. I get it. Do you want me to apologize? Or I can, like, send you a bunch of the nerds TC hired to help with the stuff I left behind.”

“Negative.”

“Are you sure? Some of these nerds really know their stuff.”

Their conversation had been less than a minute and Soundwave was already tired.

“Negative. Starscream: has a reason for calling. Tell me.”

“Okay, since you asked, it’s getting near endorsement season, and I was thinking, considering my years of service to the majority leader...”

“Negative.”

“Oh, come on, Soundwave! You have to know how the lack of an endorsement looks. Even if you hate me, think about the next six months of bad breakup stories.”

“Starscream, this is not my decision to make. If you wanted an endorsement you shouldn’t have cut ties to the office the way you did. It is not my job to make this work for your campaign.”

There was a sharp silence like Starscream had muted her end of the call. Soundwave waited, wondering how much of her job was just waiting people out. She would guess that it was at least half of it.

“Fine.” Starscream’s voice clicked back on the line. “Thanks, I guess. For, like, taking my call.”

“I hope your campaign goes well.”

Starscream snorted. “Yeah, whatever.” Soundwave waited for her to hang up, but Starscream stayed on the line. “Are you at Slipstream’s?”

“Affirmative.”

“I miss their avocado toast.” She cleared her throat. “Anyway, bye.”

Soundwave switched back over to her podcast and finished her lunch, trying to decide who was worse at dealing with their emotions--Starscream or Megatron. Either way, she was going to have to pick up the pieces.

Megatron was stalking around the office when she got back.

“Her campaign manager emailed me about an endorsement.” She practically snarled the word _her_ , like it was something bitter in her mouth. Soundwave carefully kept her face blank.

“Have you composed a response?”

“I just got the email.”

“Suggestion: allow me to compose the response.”

“But--” Megatron clenched her fists. “Fine. But make it clear that this office will _never_ endorse her.”

* * *

 

"I’m impressed,” Windblade informed her as they walked out of Redding Elementary School. “You’re really good with kids.”

“Oh, you thought I’d terrify small children?”

“You don’t seem to have a problem doing it with adults.”

Starscream snorted. “Small children are infinitely scarier than I could ever hope to be and that’s a fact. Where are we going next?”

“New Traditions Elementary.”

“Can we stop for coffee?”

“No.” Chromia, who was in the driver’s seat, glared at her in the rearview mirror. She glared back.

Windblade cleared his throat. “So, let me tell you about my plan to address school segregation. We need to approach it the way we approach gerrymandering. Get a neutral committee, put them in an undisclosed location with a six-pack of energy drinks, and have them bang something out before angry white parents can lobby them.”

“A committee is always going to be biased. Wouldn’t it be better to have a computer algorithm?”

“Algorithms can be biased too. If the people are appointed by another person we can avoid a YouTube situation where attempted neutrality backfires.”

“You’re not always going to be the person appointing the committee, Windblade. And if you want this legislation to be applicable on a broader level you need to have an algorithm.”

“How the hell do you plan to design an algorithm that’s ‘applicable on a broader level’?”

“You can adjust it! But you can’t adjust a mayor appointing his college buddies to the district committee.”

“Do you have to be so condescending in how you characterize mayors?”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Windblade and Chromia both turned to look at her in shock. “What?”

Windblade put the back of his hand on her forehead and she barely resisted smacking him in the face. “Well, you don’t feel warm. Did one of the kids sneeze on you?”

“What are you doing?”

“You just apologized to me and said I was _right._ That’s--we’ve been working together for almost a week now and I have never heard say anything in the vicinity of ‘sorry’ leave your mouth.”

“How dare you--”

“Something’s wrong with you.”

 _“Nothing_ is wrong with me, and you have no right to pry into my personal life like a college student who took a semester of philosophy.”

Chromia and Windblade made eye contact in the rearview mirror and Starscream sighed. Between the two of them and Skywarp and Thundercracker she felt like she was constantly dodging happy-couple telepathy rays. “What? What are you two thinking about?”

Nothing. God, it irked her to no end when people tried to wait her out. It was so obvious, and it never worked. “I’m not spilling my guts just because we’re in traffic and you’re bored.” A memory of a different traffic jam, Megatron’s hand on her knee and her low voice in her ear popped into her head and she resolutely looked out the window. Windblade and Chromia still didn’t say anything and she wondered whether she should take advantage of the car going less than five miles an hour and jump out. “I need Megatron’s endorsement. And her office has made it clear that I’m not going to get it.” Windblade opened his mouth and Starscream pointed at him. “If you mention Maureen Dowd, I swear I’ll kill you.”

Windblade held up his hands defensively. “Wasn’t gonna.”

The rest of the ride passed in relative silence. 

* * *

 The elementary school event ended early and Chromia left for a meeting. Windblade offered to buy her a coffee and they ended up walking at the Panhandle, a long skinny strip of grass and trees that protruded from the much larger Golden Gate Park. Skywarp often went there for her afternoon runs.

“So.” Windblade took a sip of his Americano. “Did you know this park was created in 1870 as a test to see if it was possible to grow vegetation on dunes?”

“No.”

“You should know stuff like that if you’re going to represent our district. We’re standing on the product of nearly a hundred years of irrigation.”

Starscream rolled her eyes. “Should I also know how to sing California’s state song acapella?”

“Being cynical about things doesn’t actually make you a better politician than me, Starscream. And don’t sing. You don’t have the voice for it.”

“Hmph.”  

Windblade looked over at her, trying to gauge what she was thinking. “It’s clearly in Megatron’s best interest to endorse you. I’m confident she’ll come around.”

Starscream looked over at Windblade. “Do you really believe that?”

“I’ve read a lot about the majority leader. It seems like she’s a political realist.”

“Not when it comes to grudges. She once had me call in three favors to get someone a bad seat at a Congressional event.”

Windblade snorted. “That would make a good column.”

“I’ve thought about that.”

“What?”

“I have stuff. From her office. The kind of stuff she wouldn’t want to get out. Backroom deals, intimidation, all that good stuff.”

“I don’t think I should be hearing this.”

“I keep going back and forth. Because I can get that endorsement, I know I can, I just--”

“What?”

“I haven’t spoken to her since I left. And I know it’s stupid, she just--gets in my head.” She groaned, draining the last of her white chocolate mocha. “You didn’t hear that, okay?”

“Okay.”

“No, you can’t just say okay, you have to tell me something that I can use against you if you try to blackmail me.”

Windblade threw his empty cup into the nearest trash can with a satisfying clunk. “God, I can’t believe I’m working with you. Fine. That moment where you go ‘oh no, I can’t do this?’ It happens to everyone. It happened to me in every race I was running in. I even have a thing I do--I reserve tickets to Nova Scotia and call Chromia and tell him to pack his bags, and then I remember that I’m an adult and I’ll get over it.”

“Do you use Vos Airlines?”

“That’s not remotely where I was going with this. My point is, get the moment where you think you can’t do it out of the way now.”

Starscream threw her own empty cup at a trash can. It went in but hit the side of the can and ice cubes clattered down onto the concrete. “You should use Vos Airlines. They’re a huge job creator for the region.”

“They also overcharge for everything. I’ll pass.”

* * *

The USB pen with the contents of her old work computer’s hard drive was right where she’d hidden it--her hollow copy of _The Complete History of Aviation_.

Her phone vibrated and she jumped, glaring at it. It wasn’t Megatron, though, it was Skywarp.

<Have you called her yet?>

<Not yet. Stop bothering me.>

<Do you want TC on the line?>

<I will tell you when I have called her. Until then, find something else to do.>

She dialed Megatron’s number before she lost her nerve and hit “call”

Megatron didn’t bother with a greeting. “Are you serious?” Her voice had the rough edge to it that it got when it was late in the day. Starscream thought about trying to calculate what time it was in Washington but decided it wasn’t worth it.

“Hello, Senator. How have you been?”

“I’m hanging up.”

Starscream cleared her throat and tried to sound as intimidating as possible. Maybe the vodka wasn’t a good idea. “You’re going to endorse me. Next week, on Wednesday at noon. At the San Francisco City Hall.” Megatron laughed--the same kind of laugh that had made three separate lobbyists and two bloggers leave Washington forever. Starscream swallowed hard and kept going. “If Wednesday doesn’t work, you can do Thursday. Not Friday, that’s where news stories go to die.”

“If you think I’m coming anywhere near your disaster of a campaign you’re even more of an idiot than I thought.”

Starscream bit her lip, spinning the USB pen around her finger. “I’m not asking you, I’m telling you, Senator.”

“Oh, are you trying to scare me, princess? That’s adorable.”

Megatron’s voice was cold. Hearing her use her old nickname made her feel like she’d missed a step walking down a flight of stairs in her highest heels.

“I’m not _trying_ anything, Megatron. I worked with you for six years, and you’re an idiot if you don’t think I kept receipts. I’m sure the press would love to hear more about how we got into the debt ceiling crisis or how you _really_ got the support for that infrastructure reform bill.”

“Starscream, I swear I’ll--”

“What? Go ahead, I’d love to hear it. Make it good too, because I have Lockdown on speed-dial and if this isn’t satisfying I’ll make sure to give her a call. Or any of my other journalist friends.” She knew she was pushing it but hearing Megatron’s voice for the first time in weeks made her feel like she was crackling with energy and she wanted to get closer to the edge of the cliff. “So what’s it going to be, your worship?”

“I won’t be blackmailed, Starscream.” She recognized the seething fury in Megatron’s voice and it made her shiver, even though she knew she was thousands of miles away.

“This isn’t blackmail, it’s an opportunity to improve civil discourse in our great country. We give one little press conference, and then the media will cover our policies. If not, we both go down in flames.” Starscream heard a crash on the other line and smirked. “What is it they always say, Megatron? Knowledge is power.”

“You won’t get away with this. I swear, Starscream, you’re in way, way over your head.”

“Maybe so. Do you want to risk testing if I’m serious or not?”

She could practically hear the older woman grinding her teeth. “Fine. I will give you your endorsement. But it’s the last thing you will _ever_ get from me. Cross me again, and I will make sure you regret it.”

She hung up and Starscream let out a long shaky breath, letting her head fall on her desk with a loud clunk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starscream being good with kids was inspired by Bayverse Starscream, who literally volunteers to help out on field trips, apparently.  
> Here’s a Wikipedia article on the Panhandle—it’s a pretty cool park.  
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Panhandle_(San_Francisco)  
> The bit about school districts was inspired by this program designed by Vox, which breaks down school segregation in America down on a county-by-county level. I’d advise you to check it out, it provides a really good look at why our education system is so fucked up and how we got there.  
> https://www.vox.com/2018/1/8/16822374/school-segregation-gerrymander-map  
> Up next, we have the actual endorsement, which is…a lot. I’m not gonna lie, I’m looking forward to it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Megatron endorses Starscream in her congressional race. Tempers flare.

_Thirty minutes_. Starscream checked her lipstick in the rearview mirror--Ruby Dagger, her favorite. It was a dark crimson with a silver sheen that brought out the red flecks in her brown eyes. She pressed her lips together, making sure it was even. _Just stick it out for thirty minutes and you can spend the rest of the day at your apartment with that gallon of cherry merlot ice cream._

Thinking about the ice cream motivated her to climb out of the car. She walked toward the elegant white City Hall building, her heels clicking determinedly on the polished marble. The doors swished open and she threw back her shoulders. This was her turf, not Megatron’s. She could do this. She could—

“Screamer!” Thundercracker ran across the lobby, her face pale. “We’ve got a problem. The Wiring the Future labor group just called me and said they weren’t endorsing anyone this cycle.”

“Are you fucking--” She resisted the urge to stomp her foot. “That bastard. He shook my hand and _swore_.”

Thundercracker squeezed Starscream’s shoulder, her face tight. “I called him yesterday and he told me it was locked down.” They stared at each other for a moment. “What do you want me to do?”

Starscream ran a hand through her hair, careful not to mess up her blowout. “Okay. Okay, TC, I need you to get in touch with the Unity in Technology union and give them the same presentation we gave Wiring the Future and tell them--give them Skywarp’s number and mention that Vos Airlines is looking to expand into their area.”

Her campaign manager nodded. “Yeah, yeah, that’s good. That could work.”

“You have to go now, though. Be there in time for the union representative to have to invite you to dinner.”

Thundercracker gave her a worried look. “Are you sure that you don’t want me to--”

“What, hold my hand through talking to my ex-boss? I’m a grown woman, TC. Now _go_. Hurry.”

* * *

 Starscream half expected Megatron to not be in the small room off just off from the conference hall they’d agreed upon, but she was, sitting in one of the swivel chairs like it was a throne. She had a brief but intense internal debate over holding her hand out for a handshake and decided against it.

“Senator.”

“Starscream.”

There was an awkward pause and then the aide next to the senator cleared her throat. “I’ll um, see if they’re ready for the press conference.” She practically sprinted out of the room, and Megatron rolled her eyes. The silence stretched out between them. Starscream’s fingers itched to pull out her phone but she didn’t want to take her eyes off her former boss.

“You changed your hair.” She’d forgotten how piercing the older woman’s gaze was, how she could make her feel off-guard with just a look.

“Yeah, I’m trying a new shampoo. Um, how is Soundwave doing?”

“I’m surprised you’re interested.”

“We worked together, she was--a colleague.”

“You clearly don’t care very much about your colleagues.”

She forced a smile. “Are you still mad about the blackmailing?”

“No, it just makes me curious.”

 _Don’t take the bait. Don’t--_ “Curious about _what_ , exactly?”

“About what exactly makes you think you’ll succeed as a congresswoman? Not many people want to work with someone who’s a duplicitous little backstabber with a Napoleon complex.”

The words stung, but she forced herself not to retreat. “You don’t have to take this so _personally_ , Megatron.” The older woman’s eyes blazed and a shiver ran down her spine. She fished around in her purse, pulling out her compact to check her lipstick. Megatron hated it when she didn’t have someone’s complete attention. “Honestly, I don’t know why you’re surprised.”

“For once, I agree with you. I should never have expected you to be anything other than an ungrateful traitor.”

A rueful laugh burst out before she could swallow it and she snapped her compact shut, turning to glare at her former boss. “ _Ungrateful_?”

Megatron took a step closer. “And if you think you’ll have any capital in Washington without me, you’re a fool. I will make it my _personal mission_ to see you have the worst committee assignments and your bills get _slaughtered_ on the Senate floor. If they even make it out of the house.” Starscream had forgotten, or never really appreciated how much taller she was. She took a step back, wobbling a little. Megatron continued. “You were _nothing_ before you started working for me.”

“Oh, I was _nothing_?” The word tasted sharp and bitter in her mouth. “Was winning four lost cause campaigns _nothing_? Was securing a multimillion-dollar government contract for Vos Airlines nothing? You _asked_ me to work for you and I gave you _years_ of my life and you responded by telling me to wait, and now you’re offended that I won’t?”

“I didn’t expect sycophancy, you little brat. I expected _loyalty_.”

“Why? Because I spread my legs for you?”

Megatron flinched for the first time like Starscream had struck her. She wished she had.

“No one gives you power on your own, you have to take it from them.” And now she was the one moving closer, glaring up into her ex-boss’s stupidly attractive face. “Well, I’m _taking_ it. Just like you told me to. And if you thought I wouldn’t because we fucked you’re an idiot.”

The aide stuck her head back in the room. “Um, sorry to interrupt, but they’re ready for you.”

Starscream turned on her heel. “Wonderful.” She waited for the aide to leave before firing a parting shot over her shoulder. “Remember to smile. I don’t want you scowling on my campaign website.”

The photographs looked good. A number of news websites ran them side by side with ones from the first campaign she worked on with Megatron and she looked at them later that night, wondering what they looked like to someone who didn’t know their story. Megatron’s endorsement speech was exactly what she’d asked for, and she thought the event might go off without a hitch, but then Megatron put a hand on her shoulder as she stepped up to the podium and for a moment she couldn’t speak. She covered for it by clearing her throat, but she could tell Megatron had noticed.

The memory of the older woman’s face as she told her _that shows exactly what kind of congresswoman you’d be_ played over and over in her head as she spoke and she reminded herself that was the reality, not the endorsement speech or any of the stupid immature things she wished Megatron would say. She was nothing to Megatron, and Megatron was nothing to her, and the sooner her heart realized it the better.

She shook Megatron’s hand off her shoulder as soon as they left the conference room and walked quickly down the hallway, applause echoing in her ears.  

“Starscream!”

Starscream ignored her, staring fixedly ahead. She could hear the click of her own high heels on the tile and Megatron’s firmer footsteps behind, getting closer to her. Megatron caught her elbow, pulling her to a stop and she spun around, ready with a retort, but it died when she saw how close they were. Their eyes locked, a sharp burning stare. Her throat felt painfully tight and her eyes were pricking like she was going to cry but she wasn’t, she wasn’t.

“Was the speech not to your satisfaction, princess?”

The sardonic purr in the senator’s voice hurt, the raw kind of hurt she’d sworn up and down that she wouldn’t let herself feel again after Skyfire but it was there again even though Megatron was nothing to her, she was nothing, and Starscream hated her. “Fuck you, Megatron.”

“No ‘senator?’” She could feel the older woman’s hand on her arm like a brand.

“I don’t work for you anymore, I’ll call you what I please.”

“Oh, you’re too proud to call me by my title but not too proud to beg for an endorsement?”

Blood roared in her ears. “I don’t beg for _anything._ ”

“Funny...” Megatron _smirked_ at her and suddenly she was aware of the small space between their faces. Her eyes darted to the senator’s lips before she could stop herself. “I can remember several times when that wasn’t the case.”

A vivid memory of one of the times the senator was referring to flashed into her head before she could stop it, like a flash of heat lighting her up, and Starscream slapped her before the logical part of her brain could come back online and remind her what a bad idea that was (and so _cliche_ , was this a fucking soap opera?)

Megatron caught her wrist before she could do it again. “Be very, _very_ careful with your next move, Starscream.”

She twisted, trying to get away, but Megatron’s grip didn’t break. So Starscream kicked her in the shin. “I hate you, you outmoded, dictatorial, _asshole_!”

The senator’s eyes were cold. “Believe me, I hate you more.”

Starscream shoved her. Megatron hit the wall with a thud. Her grip on Starscream’s wrist pulled her off balance, and they were suddenly too close. Starscream wasn’t sure who leaned in first but their mouths collided, a rough, bruising kiss that made her breath catch in her throat. Megatron looked even more furious when they broke apart, one hand gripping a handful of her hair to stop her from leaning in again. Starscream sneered at her, trying to catch her breath.

“Is this what you want?”

“Fuck you.”

“Tell me.” Megatron pulled her hair just slightly, exposing her throat, and even though it was just a tiny gesture it filled her with a terrifying sense of vulnerability. “Tell me you want it.” She nodded, swallowing hard, and Megatron’s short nails scratched over her scalp, making her shudder. “Say it. Say it or I stop.”

Starscream met her gaze, hoping her voice would stay level, hoping she wouldn’t sound desperate. “I want it.”

Megatron nodded, reaching behind her for the nearest door handle and yanking Starscream forward into the small space.

It was a closet, full of what looked like boxes of files and a mop that she almost instantly knocked over. The mop clattered, but she could barely hear it over her heartbeat in her ears.

Megatron was kissing her, tilting her face up, her tongue sweeping past her lips like she wanted to taste her, like she was desperate for it. She knew this was a bad idea, she knew professional politicians didn’t fuck their ex-bosses in hallway closets but she’d _ached_ for this, for Megatron’s strong hands and the way she pulled her hair just hard enough to skirt the edge of hurting, and so the whole concept of “professional” could go to hell. Her hands were shaking as she struggled to unbuckle the older woman’s belt, while Megatron hiked up her skirt. She hissed softly as she heard the carefully ironed fabric crunch and Megatron snorted derisively, pushing Starscream harder into the wall. Starscream got her revenge a moment later as she ripped Megatron’s button-down open, ruining her manicure in the process but she would care later. Buttons clattered against the walls and floor, sounding like a hail of bullets in the enclosed space.

She bit down on the older woman’s shoulder, relishing her soft hiss, and then Megatron spun her around and held her against the wall. She twisted as best as she could to kiss her again, her heart beating harder at how easily Megatron could hold her still, like a cat pinning down a bird with a single paw, playing with her before she dealt the final blow. The thought made her shiver as Megatron pushed her harder against the wall, deepening the kiss. Starscream could feel one of the senator’s hands sliding up her thigh and soon she was gasping into Megatron’s mouth as the senator’s fingers opened her up, brushing sensitive places that sent fireworks shooting off in her brain, places she could never seem to find on her own. Megatron wrapped one strong arm around her waist, holding her up even as her knees nearly gave way. She couldn’t look at her face anymore and so she pressed her forehead against the cool smooth closet wall, breathing in the scent of iron and gunpowder and trying not to think about the fact that they were going to stumble out of the closet soon and walk away from each other without looking back.

* * *

Thundercracker called that evening when she was sitting on her bed in her favorite hoodie, about halfway into her gallon of Cherry Merlot ice cream. She sighed and muted what was either her third or fourth episode of _Cutthroat Kitchen_.

“Okay, Unity in Technology is a go. In other news, I drove six hours today, so I finished _Tipping The Velvet_.” She paused like Starscream was supposed to understand what that meant.

“Good for you?”

“No, not good for me! That was supposed to last me until the end of the month when I got another free audiobook credit and could download another one. I had it all scheduled out, and now my schedule is ruined.”

Starscream sensed where this was going. “Fine. I’ll buy you a new one.”

“Really?”

“That’s not where you were going with this?”

“No, I was totally going there, I just thought you’d make me drag it out.”

“I’m tired.” She ate another spoonful of ice cream. “Talk to you tomorrow.”

“Screamer?”

“I’m _fine_ , TC. Pick out your stuffy period novel and send me the link. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Starscream hung up and reached for the chocolate sauce. The places Megatron had touched her still felt warm, even though the logical part of her mind knew that was just stupid hormones. She ran her hand through her hair--back to its natural state after her shower--and tugged. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine it was Megatron touching her.

“Fuck.” Starscream pulled her hand away, shaking it like she could get rid of her idiotic thoughts.  

* * *

Megatron stared out the airplane window at the dark sky. If she looked down far enough she could see twinkling lights below--cities and towns she’d never been to.

She shouldn’t have agreed to the endorsement. She shouldn’t have kissed Starscream, shouldn’t have touched her, shouldn’t have opened that door--

“Can I offer you some coffee, miss?”

She forced a semi-polite look on her face. “No, I’m fine. Thank you.” No matter how distracted she was she wouldn’t be rude to a service worker, not after she’d been a waitress for seven years.

“All right. Let me know if you change your mind.”

Megatron nodded and looked down at the report she’d been trying to read for the last half hour. It was about infrastructure, she thought. Or schools. She kept clenching and unclenching her fist without even realizing that she was doing it, trying to stop feeling Starscream’s pulse under her fingers.

_“I want it.”_

_It doesn’t mean she wants you_ , Megatron said to herself. She remembered Starscream’s soft gasps, how she tried to hide her face as she got closer to the edge. _It doesn’t mean anything_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> The, um, closet scene was heavily inspired by a scene from Scandal (maybe don’t watch the clip at work). The song is “I Don’t Know Why I Love You” by Stevie Wonder  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NMS1nBKdKNg  
> You can actually get the ice cream Starscream is eating, I first heard about it on a political podcast and it struck me as the kind of bougie thing she’d be into.  
> https://www.mercersdairy.com/wineicecream


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Megatron and Starscream both attend a ribbon-cutting ceremony  
> on the Fourth of July and things rapidly go south

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter specific warning--if descriptions of gun violence are triggering I would recommend you stop reading after the first break. I’ll give a summary of what you missed in the notes at the end.

Megatron sat in an uncomfortable metal folding chair, one eye on her phone and the other on the assembled reporters. The July sun was hot and a brass band was pounding out a John Sousa song that was just slightly off-key. President Prime was sitting two chairs away from her, seemingly unbothered by the heat and deep in conversation with her communications director. Jazz was wearing a spotless white sheath dress and silver pumps. Megatron could practically hear the delighted gasps of political fashion bloggers across the country. She glanced at the clock on her phone. It was almost the top of the hour, which meant that any second now--

As if on cue, reporters for the various news channels standing in front of the stage turned towards their respective cameras, identical frozen smiles on their faces.

“And we’re back in New York for the Fourth of July opening of the first school rebuilt by--”

“--It’s the Fourth of July, and leaders from the White House and Congress are here to--

“--The school I’m standing in front was rebuilt by the Education Renewal Act, a product of months of intense back-and-forth--”

“--New York City’s mayor. Rodimus Prime, the president’s third cousin and a major proponent of the legislation, has arrived, just in time for the ribbon cutting.”

A car pulled up and two women climbed out. Megatron had never met Rodimus in person before, but she recognized her instantly from the Sunday morning talk shows, newspapers, and Twitter. When she bothered to check Twitter. The mayor waved enthusiastically at the reporters, a wide grin on her face. “Happy Fourth! Hope everyone’s excited to see the fireworks.” Her chief of staff, Ultra Magnus, tried and failed to stop her from running up the metal stairs and across the stage to hug her cousin, who had risen to greet her. Optimus looked a little startled but awkwardly returned the hug.

Rodimus was the youngest ever mayor of New York City, and the daughter of two political dynasties--inheriting striking brown eyes and dark skin from the Prime family, freckles and red hair from the Kennedys, and overwhelming charisma from both. Her campaign for mayor had taken the country by storm two years ago, galvanizing younger voters in particular. Even though the next presidential election wasn’t for another four years, her name was whispered in Washington backrooms and bars whenever the topic came up.

Megatron looked away before someone could snap a picture of her watching them and caption it with something insipid. Soundwave was standing in the crowd with Rumble and Frenzy, her dark glasses solidly in place. When she saw Megatron looking at her she inclined her head, somehow managing to convey everything Megatron needed to hear in that moment. A moment later, her phone buzzed. She glanced down and saw the text was from Soundwave.

<Theatrics: impressive>

She bit her lip to hold back a chuckle. <Does everything these Primes do have to be so dramatic?>

<Observation: it’s good for poll numbers> Soundwave responded, adding a gif of Kermit the Frog drinking what looked to be iced tea. Megatron didn’t understand the meaning of that, and she was pulling up Google to look it up when she glanced up at the crowd again and everything else screeched to a halt.

Starscream was in the crowd, near the back-- _probably because she’s always late for things_ \--Megatron thought. She was wearing a short electric blue dress with matching heels and her dark skin practically glowed in the heat. Even though it was in the eighties, she wasn’t sweating at all, because there apparently wasn’t any justice in this cruel world. Starscream laughed at something the reporter she was talking to said, tossing her hair over her shoulder, and Megatron felt her mouth go dry just like it had months ago when they had--when Megatron had last seen her. A mental image of the furious look on the younger woman’s face flashed into her head, followed quickly by the memory of desperate moans, a dark closet, Starscream’s carefully ironed skirt wrinkling under her hands.

It had been a massive error, the kind she tried to avoid. She wished she could have blamed rage, or desire, emotions she was intimately familiar with, particularly when her former chief of staff was involved. But even if the first kiss could have been blamed on those emotions, she knew they weren’t the only ones she was feeling now as she watched her former chief of staff. And that gave Starscream far more of an upper hand than any stolen documents could.

 _Past cure I am, now reason is past care,_ she thought. _And frantic-mad with evermore unrest;_

Her phone was buzzing angrily, she realized, and she lifted it to her ear, not looking away from her former chief of staff. “What?”

“Desist.”

“Soundwave, why are you--”

“Starscream: a distraction.”

“I’m not--” She remembered who she was less than two feet away from and lowered her voice. “We are not discussing this now.”

“Suggestion: Stop staring at her.”

Megatron desperately wanted a cigarette. “Fine.” She stabbed the “end call” button.

* * *

Prime’s speech was mind-numbingly boring, like most of her speeches were. Starscream wanted to check her phone, but she knew some asshole would take a picture and make her look uncaring. Even though she could see three other elected officials in the crowd checking their goddamn phones. And she could bet none of them had an ex sitting up on the podium that they desperately had to avoid looking at. An ex who she was still having distracting dreams about-- _Nope. Not today. Think about something else. Anything._ She cast her thoughts back to Thundercracker telling her about her plan for the Fourth of July.

_“It’ll show your connections! The bill wouldn’t have passed without you and education is important to swing voters.” Her campaign manager had gestured to what Skywarp had dubbed her “Pepe Silvia” wall, which was covered with poll reports, maps of San Francisco, and news stories. “And because of the time zones, you’ll be able to be back in time for the evening parade with Windblade, if Skywarp drives really fast.”_

_“TC, do you take constructive criticism?”_

_“Absolutely not. You can sleep on the plane if you’re tired. Actually no you can’t, I need you to sign these thank-you letters.”_

_“I’m firing you.”_

_“Ha.” Thundercracker swatted her with a newspaper. “No one else would work for you.”_

Prime was wrapping up. “This building is a culmination of months of bipartisan negotiations, and it represents a promise. A promise that we in Washington are more than our disagreements--that we can and will work together for the good of the American people.”

People applauded politely and the president and the majority leader cut the ribbon together with the ridiculous oversized ceremonial scissors. Cameras went off, the bright snaps and flashes grating on her senses like sandpaper.  

Megatron’s face was tense. She recognized the way her jaw was set, even though the majority leader’s face was carefully neutral as she waved at the crowd. If she still worked for her then she could imagine the drive back to Washington--Megatron always had plenty to say about Prime and her speeches.

Starscream was just pulling out her phone to check her flight reservation when she heard a sharp _crack_. Her first stupid thought was  _thunder_ , but that didn’t make sense because there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, the sun was so bright it was practically blinding. And then she saw the president fall backward and she realized what was happening.

* * *

It happened quickly. There was a gunshot and then Prime shoved her, hard, and she stumbled backward and something wet was on her face and when she touched it her fingers came away red.

“Prime--”

The president looked down at the bullet wound in her abdomen, stunned, and Megatron heard another bang, and then another. She grabbed Rodimus, who had sprinted across the stage toward her cousin and positioned the mayor behind her, barking “Stay back!”

A Secret Service agent fell in front of her on the stage with a heavy thud. Megatron snatched his gun from where it had landed next to the abandoned ceremonial scissors and spun towards the sound of the first gunshot, keeping Rodimus behind her. Her mind zeroed in on the sound and suddenly there was no one there but her and the target. The familiar metallic taste of adrenaline was in the back of her throat.

There was a building across the street, and she could see the shooter in the window. He was wearing what looked like a red hat, which she focused on, squeezing the trigger. The shooter fell back and she had a split-second of relief before her arm went numb. That could only mean one thing. _Don’t look_ , she told herself sternly. She could feel blood soaking into her white cotton button-up, and worse, she could smell it. For a moment she wasn’t on a rickety metal stage in the middle of the summer she was twenty years younger on a winter mission gone horribly wrong. She was bleeding out and trying to drag herself across the beach to safety with every motion pushing the twisted pieces of shrapnel further into her leg-- _focus. I’m here, not there_. _I am here. I am here._

“Senator!” Rodimus shouted directly in her ear and she snapped back into the present. The sun was bright and she could suddenly hear screaming--it was like the volume had been turned back up.

“Are there any other shooters?” Rodimus shook her head, steadying her when she wobbled.

“You’re hit.”

“Yes, I noticed.” Her vision was starting to go blurry around the edges, and there was a loud ringing in her ears. Rodimus said something else but she couldn’t hear it. Her last thought was that the sky was the same color as Starscream’s blue dress.

* * *

All Soundwave could think as Secret Service agents shoved her towards a car was that she might lose her grip on her daughters and they’d be swept away in the crowd.

Rumble tried to squirm away. “Mom, you’re hurting me.”

She held her tighter. “Desist.” The agent pulling them was taller than her and she could barely see over his shoulder. “Where is the majority leader?”

“We’re going to New York Presbyterian.  They’re taking all the injured there. That’s all I know, ma’am.”

He pushed her into a black armored car before she could snap at him for calling her “ma’am.” She loosened her grip on Rumble’s arm, and  They weren’t the only ones in the car. Jazz was there too, pressing her phone against her ear. She was gripping it so tightly that Soundwave was surprised that it didn’t break. Her white dress was streaked with dust.

“I don’t know anything more, Mirage! Someone just started fucking shooting out of nowhere, and the President pushed the majority leader and everyone started screaming and running.”

“Starscream?”

Starscream was sitting next to Jazz, staring at her hands in her lap. There was a cut on her forehead and her dress was ripped, and Soundwave expected her to be at least somewhat irritated by this but she didn’t even seem to notice.

Jazz had her phone pressed to her ear. “We need to suspend trading on the stock exchange and shut down all flights out of New York. Is Ironhide in the bunker?” She sighed, “Well, get her over there now! Knock her out if you have to. And then call me back, okay?” She hung up and turned to Soundwave, adjusting her sky-blue glasses. “Do you know anything?”

“Negative.”

Jazz ran a hand through her hair and stared out the window. “Prowl told me to be careful, and I said, ‘It’s a hospital opening, Prowler, what’s the worst that could happen?’ I jinxed it, is what I did.”

Her phone rang and she glanced down at it. “And there she is.” Jazz raised the phone to her ear. “Prowler, it’s me. Yeah, I’m okay. It’s all right.” Her voice was soft. “A little shaken, but it’s the job, you know? I’m used to it. No, I’m not trying to be cool.” She smiled. “I love you too, Prowler.”

Soundwave realized why she hadn’t heard from Shockwave--she had likely been taken to the bunker as well. It was essential to preserve the line of succession after an assassination attempt, and that was what had just happened.

The car kept going, and Soundwave pulled her daughters closer, hoping they’d be at the hospital soon. Starscream met her eyes for a moment, looking like she might say something, and then looked back down at her hands, shaking her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if you skipped down here, quick summary: there was a shooter at the event who fired at the elected officials onstage. Optimus pushed Megtron out of the way, but she got hit in the process. and Megatron shielded Rodimus and took out the shooter. She was also hit in the shoulder. They’re both being taken to the hospital--no one is sure yet who the shooter was. 
> 
> The full poem Megatron quoted is here, and I highly recommend checking it out.  
> https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/56227/sonnet-147-my-love-is-as-a-fever-longing-still
> 
> And sorry about the cliffhanger.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone tries to grapple with what happened in different ways

As soon as Jazz got out of the car, she ran into the hospital, jumping over the holes in the parking lot asphalt. The hospital was completely overrun with Secret Service agents, their dark suits jarring against the hospital’s beige walls and pale pink floor. It didn’t seem real, Jazz thought. She remembered feeling the same way when she saw Prime giving orders in the Situation room, or when an agent showed her the thick binder of threats sent to the White House in one week. Something like this wasn’t supposed to happen.

She didn’t know where the president was. Which was bad because she couldn’t serve as the voice for the administration if she didn’t even know the location of the head of the administration. Finally, one of the agents--Charlie, a friendly older woman she’d gotten to know on previous presidential trips--informed her that the president was in trauma surgery. The trauma floor was two flights up, and after waiting five minutes for the elevator, Jazz thought _fuck it_ and took the stairs.

Emergency broadcasts about the shooting were playing on all the televisions in the large glass-enclosed waiting room, but the news anchors were drowned out by Rodimus and Ultra Magnus arguing. Rumble and Frenzy, Soundwave’s obnoxious twin daughters, kept shooting them dirty looks from the other side of the room, where they were hunched over a laptop.

“Rodimus, you cannot go back to your office right now. The entire city is on lockdown.”

“Shockingly, I’m aware of that, Mags! That’s why I have to go. I’m the  _mayor!_ People can’t think that I’m in hiding.”

“No one is going to think that.”

“How would you know? When’s the last time you’ve talked to a human being who didn’t work in my office?”

“Rodimus.”

“Don’t ‘Rodimus’ me!”

“Hey.” Jazz tapped Ultra Magnus on the shoulder. “Are you two all right?”

“Jazz!” Rodimus took a step forward to hug her and then stopped, glancing down at the bloodstains on her bright yellow and orange patterned sundress. “I’m fine. Optimus is--um--she’s--” She touched her stomach. “Shot. The doctor couldn’t tell us much, but she’s going to be in surgery for at least another five or six hours.”

“It just missed her liver.” Ultra Magnus cleared her throat. “But she’s lost a lot of blood.”

“Yes, I was about to tell her that, Mags. Jazz, I need to make a statement.”

“Rodimus, you’re not--”

“Stop _worrying_ about me, I’m the mayor of New York and the people need me.”

“You still have blood on your dress. Stop trying to be a hero and sit down for a minute.”

“I’m not trying to be a hero, I just need to do something!” Rodimus threw her hands up in frustration. “Because that’s what _she_ would be doing. And she’s not here, so someone needs to be her, and I don’t know how but all I can think is she wouldn’t want everyone who just saw her get shot on TV to panic!”

“ _You’re_ panicking.”

“Of course I am! Who wouldn’t be? I have blood from two different people on my fucking dress!” Rodimus laughed, half-hysterically, bunching the fabric into her fists. Ultra Magnus reached out, hesitated, and then put a hand on her shoulder.

“It is all right to take a moment to be upset.”  Rodimus sniffed and glared at her. “Rodimus, I--”

She was cut off when Rodimus suddenly pulled her in for a hug, burying her face in her shoulder.  The mayor’s chief of staff was on the shorter side, but everything she wore gave the illusion of height, from her chunky-heeled powder blue boots to her old-fashioned blazer with enormous shoulder pads, and she wobbled a little as Rodimus hugged her tighter. Ultra Magnus shot Jazz a panicked look. Jazz sighed and mimed patting her on the back, which Ultra Magnus awkwardly copied.  

She texted Prowl with the updates on the president’s condition, while Ultra Magnus and Rodimus spoke in low voices. She wished she could call Prowl, but she knew all hell was breaking loose at the White House and with Ironhide in the bunker and Prime...out of commission, her girlfriend was likely both in charge and overwhelmed. Having to talk on the phone would stress her out more. After a moment, she sent her a photograph of a corgi wearing a tie, knowing that Prowl liked them. Prowl responded a few minutes later.

<Thanks.>

Jazz pictured the expression on Prowl’s face and it made everything seem a little better.

It only took Rodimus about ten minutes and a mini-pack of Kleenex to pull herself together. “Are you giving a statement, and can I give it with you?” Her voice was steadier.

“Yes, of course. But you need to get changed.” Jazz reached into her black leather tote and pulled out a plastic bag with the neatly folded black pleated skirt and white lace blouse she’d packed that morning. She never went anywhere without a backup outfit and her travel makeup kit. Appearances mattered in a crisis, and if people looked like they had it together, they’d sound together too. Rodimus was a little shorter than her, but the outfit would fit all right. “Here. Go to the hospital bathroom.”

Rodimus leaned forward to squeeze her hand, her bracelets clinking, and ducked out of the waiting room. Ultra Magnus shot her a look that she assumed was the best approximation of gratitude that she could manage.

“Do you always carry backup designer clothing with you in that enormous bag?”

Jazz half-shrugged. “I mean, you’re welcome.” She stood before Ultra Magnus could reply, patting her on the shoulder and walking over to the nearby vending machine, more to have a simple task to focus on than because she needed it. She ended up gulping down half the too-expensive bottle of water she bought, realizing she hadn’t drunk anything since breakfast. She needed to get that “drink more water” app Bumblebee was always talking about. Jazz held the water bottle to the back of her neck and breathed in deeply through her nose, imagining the past few hours sinking into her like a stone in water. When she got back to her apartment she would strip off her dress and heels and stockings and jewelry, crank up her favorite blues playlist, and stand in a cold shower. The water would run down her face and wash the dust and sweat away.

Her phone vibrated and after another moment she pulled it out. Prowl had sent her a photo of a corgi sleeping with its head on a single white high-heel.

<This is your mood.> A moment later another text came in. <Am I doing this right?>

Jazz smiled. <You’re perfect.>

They would be okay. They always were.

* * *

Someone had pushed Starscream down when the running and screaming started and her head was throbbing where it had slammed into the concrete. The blue dress she’d bought with Skywarp on their “treat yourself day” had ripped and she was probably going to have to throw it out. And there was no way she’d make it to that stupid Fourth of July parade now.

If she was there, Skyfire would have told her she was thinking these things because she didn’t want to think about the larger picture. Starscream pushed the thought away. She couldn’t think about Skyfire, especially not now, not when she’d just seen--not when Megatron had--

Her eyes were burning and she told herself it was because of the pain.

“Do you need something for your head, miss?”

_“Starscream, listen to me. Listen to me and understand. One day you’re going to be something incredible.”_

She glared at the nurse and he backed away. Her phone vibrated again and she grabbed it, more to stop the fucking vibrating than because she cared about whoever was calling.

“What?”

“Oh my god. ‘Warp, she just picked up, she’s okay.”  

“TC?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s me. Are you hurt?.” Her campaign manager sounded frantic, but Starscream could hardly focus on what she was saying. It was like she was hearing her from underwater.

“No.”

“You sound weird, are you sure--”

“I’m _fine_ , TC! Just talk, okay?”

“All right, they’ve shut down flights out of New York, but if you can get a train ride to Delaware or New Jersey I’ll see if I can reserve a ticket at an airport there.”

“I can’t leave until I know Megatron is all right.” She heard Thundercracker make a startled noise and, realizing how that must have sounded, struggled to explain. “If I do, it’ll look heartless and she’ll have an excuse to retract her endorsement.”

 _“You were_ nothing _before you started working for me.”_

“Screamer--”

“Don’t call me that.” The words felt automatic. She looked at her hands, her electric-blue manicured nails on the grey plastic couch.

_“You want a lot of things, don’t you, Starscream? But it’s not enough to want something. You have to know how to fight for it.”_

“Listen, this isn’t--we don’t have to talk about this if you really don’t want to, but you’re clearly upset--”

“I’m not upset! For fuck’s sake, why do you think I’m _upset_? I’m staying here because it’s politically expedient, and for no other fucking reason. Look, I’ll call you back when I know something.”

She hung up before Thundercracker could say anything else and squeezed her phone, tracing the rounded edges of the case. Blood was dripping from her head on her skirt and she thought about the blood seeping into Megatron’s grey suit jacket. She remembered pushing it off in the supply closet,  Megatron’s strong arms lifting her up as the coat fell off her shoulders.

And then she was thinking about the older woman’s breath on her shoulder, her steady hands in her hair, their bodies pressed together--

She closed her eyes and swallowed hard to clear away the lump in her throat.

* * *

Soundwave got brushed off by two nurses and a doctor when she requested information on her boss’s condition. She’d also slammed her hand in the car door and she could feel a steady throbbing pulse in her hand that she knew would start hurting as soon as she thought about it for more than a few seconds.

“I’m sorry.” The third nurse shook his head. “I can’t tell you anything yet.”

Soundwave pulled out her phone and scrolled through the contacts. One of the hospital’s biggest donors owed her a favor, it was time to call it in.  Five minutes after handing the phone to the man behind the waiting room desk, she was speaking with a nervous-looking medical student who had been observing the surgery. “What can I help you with, ma’am?”

“Just let me know the majority leader’s condition.”

“All right, we’re still working, but so far the biggest problem was blood loss. That seems to be under control now. Also, the bullet didn’t cause major nerve damage, so she’ll maintain motor function, which is really good news, but there were fractures in her scapula and humerus, which we need to set. We also need to repair the damage to her muscles and soft tissue.”

“How much longer will the surgery take?”

“I would say about four hours? It can vary.”

She nodded. “Please continue to keep me informed. It is of the utmost importance.”

The medical student patted her shoulder. Without her permission. “Of course. If you don’t mind my asking, is she family?”

“That’s none of your concern.”

The medical student took a half step back and made an apologetic noise, and then walked back through the double doors. Soundwave watched, wishing that getting more information had made her feel better. Her hand had started to ache.

“Hey.” Frenzy held out an ice pack. “Is there anything we can do, Mom?”

Soundwave took the ice pack and looked around the hospital. The CNN Breaking News jingle played in stereo on the three waiting room televisions as the most recent commercial break ended. It was oddly comforting. Soundwave remembered hearing the jingle in her office while Megatron and Starscream yelled at each other in the next office over, or playing at the lowest possible volume in her bedroom as she and Shockwave threw their work clothes on at one in the morning. _Operation: Crisis Management_ , she thought. _Step One--_

“We need a press release.”

She settled her daughters in a corner of the hospital waiting room with a laptop and told them to draft it. This wasn’t something she normally did, but the entire world was going to hell in a handbasket and she trusted Rumble and Frenzy to do it right more than anyone currently at the office.

“What’s the frame you want, Mom? Defending people against future attacks? Focusing on the unveiling of the new school? Responsible gun control?”

“Mention the majority leader’s work passing firearm regulations last session. We’ll start work on another bill once I get back to the office. Don’t talk about future attacks until we know who’s behind this.” Soundwave remembered Megatron glowering down at the head of the NRA when he barged into her office last year during the struggle to get that bill passed. Starscream had swept into the office an hour later, triumphantly crowing about how she’d made a gun lobbyist cry, and they’d all had drinks, standing around the majority leader’s desk.

Starscream hadn’t moved from her chair in the waiting room, and Soundwave noticed the cut on her forehead was still bleeding. She sighed and grabbed a handful of tissues out of the nearest box.

“Do you have the statement?”

“Yes, boss.” She squeezed Rumble’s shoulder.

“All right. Give me a moment.”

Starscream glared at her when she held out the tissues and the ice pack. “Go away. Whatever you’re going to say, I don’t care. I’m fine.”

“You are bleeding from a head wound.”

“I said I’m fine!”

“Negative. Starscream’s behavior: irrational.”

“Don’t you--” Soundwave tilted her chin up, looking in her eyes. Her pupils were unnaturally dilated.

“Probability of a concussion: likely.” Starscream crossed her arms, likely about to start yelling about how she was fine again, but Soundwave didn’t want to hear it. “Neglecting oneself: inefficient response to crisis. Sit down and let a nurse look at your head like an adult.”

The younger woman glared at her for a long moment and then sank into the hospital chair. Soundwave gestured to a nurse, who began to dab at the cut on Starscream’s head.

Hours passed. Soundwave tried to focus on damage control, wishing she could either be in the surgery room, watching them put her boss back together or in the majority leader’s office directing the panicking staff. Sitting in the waiting room with only her laptop and one functioning hand felt like being in an isolation tank.

The CNN Breaking News coverage was rolling into its sixth hour--Rodimus and Jazz had given a press conference immediately after the shooting, and then the mayor spoke with more reporters outside the hospital, promising to sponsor a gun control bill in the upcoming state legislative session in Albany. Tarn and Blitzwing gave a statement in front of the Senate building using a version of the statement that Rumble and Frenzy wrote. Soundwave had forwarded it to them. It sounded good. Reassuring.

“Well done, girls.”

“Thanks, boss!” Rumble looked up from her phone. “Have you heard from Shockwave yet?”

“Negative.” She tried not to think about why that might be. “What are you seeing on social media?”

Frenzy rolled her eyes. “Lots of conspiracy theories. It’s gross. Twitter is gross.”

About another hour later, her phone rang. She picked up, mentally preparing to speak to either Tarn, Blitzwing, or another frantic journalist.

“Soundwave, are you all right?” Hearing the Shockwave’s voice made her feel something other than terror and frustration for the first time in hours. Shockwave was okay. Wherever she was, she was safe.

“I am, Shockwave. Were you in the bunker?”

“Yes. With Ironhide.” Soundwave could hear her irritation, and it was comforting. “Is Megatron still in surgery?”

“Affirmative. Doctor: believes injury is not permanent. Nerve damage: minimal.”

“What about the joint? Was it shattered?”

“I do not think so. It was located below the shoulder.” She thought back to the injuries she’d studied when working on a veteran’s bill with Shockwave. “Paralysis is unlikely.”

“Ah. How much longer will the surgery be?”

“Unsure. No one is being forthcoming with information.”

“Are Rumble and Frenzy still there?”

“Affirmative.” She absently ran a hand over Frenzy’s head--she had fallen asleep, while Rumble had wandered off to check out the dining hall.

“Are the three of you alone?” An ordinary person wouldn’t have heard the concern in Shockwave’s voice, but Soundwave knew the speaker quite well.

“Negative. Starscream: here as well.”

“What?”

“Affirmative.” She glanced over at Starscream’s red jacket, which she’d left lying on the hospital chair. “Status: distressed.”

“She is aware that she does not work for Megatron anymore? I doubt the majority leader will somehow forget her decision to leave her office and pursue her own ambitions because of a bedside vigil.”

Soundwave smiled faintly. “Her decision to stay does not seem to be career-driven.”

“Hmph.” Shockwave sounded incredulous. “I will never understand those two, I swear.”

“Shockwave: finds them illogical?”

“Iced tea is illogical. Megatron and Starscream go far beyond that.”

“Shockwave: a tea snob.”

“Excuse me?” Shockwave’s faux-offended tone made Soundwave forget the day’s events for a moment. “I hardly think it’s snobbish to be offended by the affront to science that is iced tea.” There was a muffled conversation on the other end of the line, and then Shockwave returned. “I apologize, I need to go to the White House. Acting President Ironhide has requested my presence. Will you be back tomorrow?”

“Hopefully. Shockwave: has adequate security?”

“Nearly double my normal amount. Do not worry about me Soundwave, I am safe.”

“Shockwave: does not need to worry either.”

“I will until you have returned.”

She hung up the phone and looked out the hospital window at the ambulance lights. The rest of the waiting room was quiet, which was good. Maybe she could talk Rumble into sleeping when she got back. She’d sternly told her no caffeine at this hour of the night, but keeping her daughters away from their favorite beverages was a fool’s errand.

“Hey, Mom!” Rumble sat down in the chair next to her, handing her a cup. “It’s green tea. I couldn’t find jasmine.”

Soundwave took a cautious sip. Unlike the coffee she had tried earlier, it wasn’t terrible. She squeezed her daughter’s hand in gratitude.

“You look tired, Mom. Do you want me to look into hotels?”

“I am unsure, at the moment. You two have school on Monday and the majority leader needs someone at her office, but I do not want to leave without having consulted with her.”

“Oh! About that--” Rumble looked around the room and then leaned in conspiratorially. “I looked around, and she’s out of surgery. In the recovery wing, room 481.” She grinned at her mother. “I grabbed a clipboard and pretended to be a volunteer and they told me everything.”

Soundwave pulled her daughter in for a quick hug. “I am very proud of you.”

“I learned from the best, boss. Go see if she’s awake, I’ll watch Frenzy.”

* * *

The fourth floor was quiet. Soundwave found the recovery wing easily--she’d memorized the hospital layout once they arrived in case of an emergency. _Room 481_ , she thought, walking down the hallway.

She stopped when she got to the room, not sure why she hadn’t realized that _of course_ Starscream would be there. She had no idea how--perhaps she’d bribed a nurse to give her the room number? It looked like she had been there for a while, in any case. Soundwave felt like she had never properly understood how much of Starscream’s presence was just her attitude, because she’d never seemed smaller, hunched over in the hospital chair next to Megatron’s bed.

Megatron was still unconscious, and Soundwave could see a dark bag of blood hooked into her uninjured arm. Starscream stood, bending down to whisper something to the unconscious woman. She looked at Megatron for another long, conflicted moment, and then picked up her purse and turned to leave. Soundwave quickly stepped back but Starscream saw her, and instantly her spine straightened and her eyes hardened. It was astonishing how quickly she changed, like invisible pieces of armor were slamming into place.

“Figures. Do you get off on listening at doors?”

Soundwave considered pointing out that Starscream technically wasn’t supposed to be in that part of the hospital either but decided against it.

“Starscream: is all right?”

“Yes, I got checked out and wouldn’t you know it, I’m fucking fine. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to California.” She shoved past Soundwave and began to stalk away before turning on her heel to jab a manicured finger in her former colleague’s face. “Do _not_ tell Megatron I was here.”

Soundwave watched her walk away. Shockwave’s voice echoed in her head. “ _You see? Illogical.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prowl’s love of corgis is inspired by Captain Raymond Holt from Brooklyn 99. She doesn’t understand memes but Jazz loves her anyway.  
> A lot of aspects of this chapter were really fun but my favorite was defintely describing Ultra Magnus's outfit--the shoulder pads are a shameless 1980s Reference.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Megatron remembers the past while Starscream travels back to San Francisco. Everything is fine.

_Six years earlier_

It was a cold night--at least the mid-twenties, if not lower. But there was no windchill, so it wasn’t _terrible_ , the newly elected majority whip told herself. She’d landed in D.C. less than a week ago and she already missed Texas. The cold cut right down to her bones, even in her grey wool coat.

The coat had been so expensive it made her nauseous when she bought it. She remembered sewing patches onto her threadbare winter coat in her first year at the Annapolis Navy Academy, hoping she could make it last another year. Most of her paychecks—both her military pay and the money she made working at her two retail jobs—went to her mother, especially after the doctor found a lump in her breast at a routine checkup—

A voice cut through her thoughts. “Is there a reason you called me here, your worship?”

Starscream was still wearing her glittery silver inauguration ball gown. Her Louboutins clicked on the marble steps, and even though Megatron had told her to bring a jacket she was only wearing her very fashionable and completely impractical wrap. “Starscream. Come here.”

“I was having a conversation with a CEO who was on his third drink and was about to donate a _very_ sizable amount of money to your reelection campaign, I won’t say how much--”

“Starscream--”

“Two million. It was two million dollars. And now I’m here, at the Lincoln Memorial, a half hour past midnight, and it’s nineteen fucking degrees out?

“I told you to bring a coat.”

“Well, I didn’t. Because this is Parada and I didn’t want to cover it up, and I foolishly assumed I wouldn’t be outside for more than five-minute intervals.”

Megatron sighed and shrugged off her coat, offering it to Starscream, who sniffed haughtily and took it. It swallowed her tiny frame, but Megatron liked how it looked on her. “Starscream, do you understand where we are?”

“I’ve lived here on and off for years. I know what the Lincoln Memorial is.”

Megatron sighed. “The question was rhetorical, princess.”

“Fuck off.”

“When I asked if you understood where we are, I meant, do you understand what this place _is_ ? It’s power, Starscream. This, right here, this is _real_ power. People like Prime, they run around talking about the next five years, the next ten years. They’re fools. Power is measured in centuries. It’s granite and marble and stone.”

“You called me out here in the middle of the night during a weather cycle that reporters have been describing as ‘historically frigid’ so you could fucking monologue?”

“Starscream.” She shot the girl a warning look.

“Oh, I’m sorry, let me rephrase that.” Starscream dropped into a sarcastic curtsy. “Such _brilliant_ schemes, my master.”

Megatron bit the inside of her cheek so she wouldn’t laugh. “I called you out here to have a drink.” She held up the bottle she’d taken from her office.

Starscream looked genuinely surprised. “What?”

“This is single-malt whiskey distilled at a special refinery in Scotland. It’s expensive.”

“I don’t just look at things and see price tags.”

“You could have fooled me.” Megatron sat down on the stairs, crooking a finger at her new chief of staff. “Come here.”

Starscream sat, smoothing Megatron’s coat under her so she wouldn’t wrinkle her dress. Megatron took a long drink from the bottle, relishing the taste, and passed it to Starscream, who cleared her throat after taking a sip. “It’s strong.”

“Stronger than your favorite dessert wine, princess?”

Starscream rolled her eyes. “Shut up.” Their fingers brushed as she handed the bottle back. Megatron took another sip, wondering if Starscream would taste like the whiskey if she kissed her.

“It’s a bit of an acquired taste.”

“Is there a reason we’re doing this here and not, I don’t know, at your heated apartment?”

“Didn’t you hear me earlier? This place is power. I brought you here so you’d understand that. This--the power that lasts for centuries--this is what we’re going to achieve.”

“Oh.” Starscream snatched the bottle and took another drink, this one a bit longer. “We?”

“You don’t see anyone else here, do you?” Starscream was silent, and Megatron looked over at her, curious. She had pressed a hand over her mouth, and for a moment, Megatron thought that she was angry, and then she looked at her eyes and realized that Starscream was trying to hide a smile. Megatron reached out and took her hand, tracing a circle in the center of her palm and then slowly stroking up and down her fingers, wondering if she could make her shiver.

“Stop it.” Starscream pulled her hand away.

“Stop what?”

“You’re teasing me.” She took another sip of whiskey and put the bottle down between them. Her hand felt cold where Starscream had pulled away.

“Not about what we’re going to accomplish together, Starscream.” Megatron reached down for the bottle, trying to calculate how thick the ice on the surface of the reflecting pool was. After a moment, Starscream’s hand slipped back into hers.

“This is a nice coat. Can I keep it?”

“No. It was expensive. And on the subject of that, I want to raise the minimum wage.”

Starscream looked at her, surprised. “What?”

“This session. I want to raise the minimum wage.”

Her chief of staff looked at her for a long moment and then nodded. “Sure. Okay. That’ll only piss off half the party.”

“Are you saying you can’t handle the pressure?”

Starscream glared at her. “Of course I can handle it.” Her scowl was so attractive, Megatron couldn’t resist kissing it. She tasted like whiskey and smelled like cold air and expensive perfume. Starscream murmured something she couldn’t hear, and she pulled back, stroking her cheek.

“What did you say?”

Starscream’s lips moved, and Megatron remembered what she had said, just like she remembered everything from that night-- _can we go somewhere that has heating now, your worship?_ But that wasn’t what she heard. She wasn’t sure what Starscream was saying. Her voice sounded far away and staticky, like she was on a radio channel that was just out of range.

“Starscream?”

* * *

“Senator?”  Megatron’s eyes opened with tremendous effort. For a moment she swore she could feel the cold air on her face and smell Starscream’s perfume, and then she remembered. Starscream had quit, Starscream had _left_ , and someone had tried to kill her (and Prime, and the mayor of New York), and she was in a hospital bed, which meant whoever had tried to kill her hadn’t succeeded. “Senator.” She turned her head on the pillow and saw Soundwave standing next to her bed. Her dark glasses were pushed up onto her head and her navy blazer was draped off the back of the hospital chair. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got shot.”

“Deduction: Accurate.”

“Thank you, Soundwave. Is Prime still in surgery?”

“Negative. Surgery ended: two hours ago. The president is in recovery.”

The mental image of Prime shoving her across the stage and then looking down in shock at the bullet wound in her abdomen, a red circle growing on her white shirt, snapped into Megatron’s head. “Oh, god. She saved my life, didn’t she?”

“Probability: likely.”

Megatron groaned, and not from the pain. “Wonderful.” The hospital room was harshly lit and smelled like chemicals and she was reminded vividly of why she _hated_ hospitals. Her shoulder was throbbing but she put the morphine button on the side table because she’d rather deal with real pain than the syrupy unreality of drugs.

They’d given her drugs after the explosion, years ago. She remembered waking up in a different hospital room and seeing Sentinel's people had outside her hotel room, watching her. _For your protection_ , Sentinel had said when she visited her, squeezing her hand hard enough to leave fingernail-shaped bruises.

_If you fall asleep, you’ll die_ , she had told herself. She’d refused the drugs, staying awake until she could was back in Texas.  

“Where are we now, Soundwave?”

“Acting President Ironhide suspended trading on the stock exchange and shut down airports within a fifty-mile radius.”

“Has Shockwave been in touch? Does she know who was behind the shooting?”

“Shockwave informed me they have several leads but no direct conclusions. She did inform me that they no longer suspect that it was the act of an international terrorist group.”

“Could it have been--”

“Sentinel has not been in touch with any of her old contacts. I’ve gone through all the relevant phone records and internet history.”

“Are you certain, Soundwave?”

“Affirmative.”   

“How long was I in--”

“Eight hours.”

“Ah.” She looked around for her phone. Soundwave held it out. “It is fully charged. The doctor recommends more time for recovery. As do I.”

“Duly noted, Soundwave.” Her shoulder throbbed as she tried to take the phone, and she resigned herself to doing everything left-handed for the foreseeable future.

“Senator, are you in pain?”

“I’ll be all right, Soundwave. What I need now is someone at our office managing the chaos that’s unfolding.”

“Affirmative.”

“Ironhide will take this opportunity to undermine my authority. I need you to prevent that.”

Soundwave nodded. “Situation: will be handled.”

“I trust no one but you to handle it.” She noted the circles under Soundwave’s eyes, normally hidden by her glasses. "But you need to get a few hours of sleep first, and that’s an order.” She paused for a moment. “Oh, and Soundwave?”

“Yes, Senator?”

“This is obviously ridiculous, but was Starscream here?”

Soundwave nodded. “Yes.” She paused. “Until recently.”

Megatron tried to keep her voice level, trying not to think about the hallway closet in San Francisco, of Starscream’s soft mouth and sharp nails. Or of the way the girl had looked at her that night at the Lincoln Memorial. “Thank you, Soundwave. That will be all.” Soundwave nodded again and left. Megatron turned on the hospital television and turned up the lights as high as she could get them. Part of her wished that it had been Sentinel behind the shooting just so she would know who she had to be watching out for.

* * *

Soundwave didn’t remember most of the drive back to Washington--she spent most of it responding to the hundreds of messages from bureaucrats, senators, and journalists with her hands-free phone. Rumble and Frenzy were both asleep in the back of the car when she arrived at the townhouse, and the sun was just starting to come up. It hit her that she had been awake for almost forty-six hours, breaking the previous record she’d set during the debt ceiling crisis.

When she opened the door she expected the usual sounds of an empty house. But Shockwave was there, sitting at the kitchen island with a take-out container and her laptop.

“Shockwave!” Frenzy dumped her backpack on the couch and ran over to the speaker. “Were you in the bunker? Did you have to give a DNA sample?”

Rumble gasped excitedly, clearly thinking about the pulp novels she liked to read on airplanes. “Were there bones there? Did you see blood on the walls?”

Soundwave sighed. “Rumble. Frenzy. Desist.”

“But Mom--”

“Both of you need to shower and go to bed. You have school on Monday.” She scooped Frenzy’s backpack off the couch and handed it back to her daughter. “And take your things upstairs.”

Frenzy took her backpack with a huff. “Can we go to your office instead? We can help with press releases.”

“Negative. However, if you can finish all of your homework tomorrow, I’ll let you order pizza for dinner tomorrow night.” She shooed them both up the stairs, turning back to Shockwave, who was putting the rest of her dinner in the fridge.

“Shockwave: not at the capitol?”

“I will return in an hour. But first, I needed to see you.” The speaker touched her cheek, concern in her dark eyes. “You look tired.”

“Situation at the capitol: stable?”

“For now. I have another meeting with Ironhide at three to discuss mobilizing the national guards in New Jersey and Pennsylvania. I will brief you on it afterward.” They walked up the carpeted stairs. Soundwave could hear Buzzsaw and Laserbeak twittering in the kitchen and the soft swish of the dishwasher and she was so tired she was practically leaning on Shockwave by the time they got to the master bedroom. She stepped out of her low heels and threw her jacket on an armchair, not bothering to undress any further. Ravage hissed at her when she fell on the bed with a thud but she hardly noticed.

“Shockwave: can stay for a little while longer?”

“Yes.” She felt the speaker’s hand smoothing her hair. “I am glad you are home.”

Soundwave reached up to squeeze her hand before sleep dragged her under.

* * *

Starscream couldn’t remember the last time she had felt this tired. Not when she was writing her thesis. Not when she was running campaigns. Not even when she pulled two straight all-nighters for the debt ceiling crisis. The doctor had told her not to look at screens, advice she had planned on ignoring until squinting at her phone’s tiny keyboard sent a knife straight through her brain. So she was stuck listening to radio coverage of the news until everything sounded like static.

When she got off the first train in Harford it was noon and the sun was so bright she could barely see the departure board, and she could feel the humidity on her face like a wet washcloth. She noticed a vending machine that sold cigarettes. They were decent quality, and the first few drags were absolute paradise, but then the smell reminded her of late nights in the majority leader’s office and she thought about Megatron in the hospital bed again. Her throat felt tight and she crushed the cigarette under her scuffed-looking blue pump. When the train to Springfield came, she left the box of cigarettes on the platform bench.   

Her seat on the new train was slightly more comfortable and the car was actually quiet. She dozed while her phone charged, resting her head on the cool glass window. It was a good way to get some rest--the weird half-sleep on the train wasn’t enough to dream but enough to make her brain shut up.

When she turned her phone back on in Springfield she had a text from Skywarp.

<Hey, TC reserved you a hotel room at the Holiday Inn by the airport.>

She rolled her eyes, which sent another sharp shock through her head. <Cancel it. I slept on the train.>

<Screamer, you have to be exhausted.>

_“You have to be exhausted.” Her lawyer reached out as if to squeeze her arm, but Starscream glared at him and he backed away. “You two didn’t have to be here this late.”_

_“Yes, we did. This is what you do when people die, you identify their bodies.” She felt Skywarp flinch next to her and felt a twinge of guilt, unpleasant but welcome since it was the first thing she’d felt other than cold numbness since she got the phone call about the crash. “Just show us.”_

_The morgue worker gave them a sympathetic look as he uncovered their bodies. She squeezed Skywarp’s elbow, hoping she could offer some comfort, silently wishing she could punch the morgue worker and the lawyer and everyone who’d sent them fucking condolence baskets._

_“Can you identify the bodies?”_

_Starscream felt like something was caught in her throat._

_“Yes.” Skywarp spoke for them. Her voice was hoarse but steady. “That’s his Vos lapel pin. And do you--do you see Mom’s left hand? She’s missing the tip of her pinky finger. It was an accident with the sheet metal cutter.” Skywarp pressed her hand against her mouth._

_Starscream reached over and detached her father’s pin. His magenta blazer was torn and splattered with oil, and the thought about how he carefully ironed it himself before every meeting. “For good luck,” he would say._

<Stop worrying about me, Warp.>

She put her phone on “do not disturb” and shoved it back in her pocket. The cab ride to the airport took about twice as long as it should have because of traffic and by the time she got there it was night again and she was so hungry she wanted to gnaw off her own hand. When she saw her face in the airport bathroom mirror she cringed. Skywarp would have told her that she “looked like a fucking zombie.” She splashed some water on her face and pressed a wet paper towel to the back of her neck, which didn’t do very much.

Starscream stood in line for a turkey sandwich, which she ate about half of before her stomach turned and she threw the rest of it out. All the airport televisions were showing coverage of the shooting, theories about who could have planned it, footage of the event from various angles. It made her headache worse but there was no way she could ignore it.  After a while, she forced herself to stop watching and looked at her hands in her lap, but that reminded her of being in the hospital waiting room, so she spent ten fucking dollars on a copy of _Wired_ so she could have something new to blankly stare at. An article about technology in Washington was illustrated with a picture of the Lincoln Memorial, which she kept flipping back to look at until it was time to board the plane.

When she was halfway to San Francisco, she decided to try to look at her phone screen again, opening up the YouTube clip of Rodimus’s statement. But the video was accompanied by an ad with terrible graphics and a condescending narrator that rapidly brought her headache crashing back, so she reluctantly turned her phone back off and slept for the rest of the flight.

It was morning when she got off the plane. She could see fog through the airport windows and it was comforting. Somehow her three days away from San Francisco had felt longer than the months at a time she spent far from home in Washington.

Skywarp and Thundercracker were waiting at the gate.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Soundwave called. She said you have a concussion?” Thundercracker had that stupid worried look on her face, the same one she always got during a crisis. She remembered it from the time that Skywarp brought her to their shared apartment the night Skyfire had left, when she was drunk and angry enough to break things, or the night they’d come back from the morgue. She hated it because it meant that Thundercracker considered this a crisis, and that made the whole awful thing more real.

“You shouldn’t have come.”

“Screamer.” Skywarp reached out, touching her shoulder, and she flinched away.

“Don’t. You shouldn’t _be_ here, it’s _fine_ , okay, it’s fine, I’m fine, I’m fucking fine!” She could hear her briefcase hitting the floor. It echoed weirdly, like she was at the end of a long tunnel. When she squeezed her eyes shut she could see Megatron from years ago, on the shooting range behind her house in Texas. She had looked invincible, her light brown skin glowing in the hot sun, the muscles in her arms standing out as she swept her hair out of her face. She remembered Megatron sitting next to her on a cold night at the Lincoln Memorial telling her they would achieve great things together.

The artificial-lemon smell of the airport’s floor cleaner was the same kind that the hospital had used. Starscream fought back another wave of nausea.

“Starscream.” Skywarp’s voice seemed to come out of nowhere. Her sister gripped her elbow and she realized she was shaking. Her nails had dug into her upper arms but she hadn’t felt it. “Hey. Let’s go home.”

“I’m fine.”

“We know.” Thundercracker picked up her briefcase and put a hand on her lower back. “Come on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I called this chapter "the flashback chapter" in my notes--it wasn't intentional, it just happened. The only good parts of Bayformers are the parts with Megan Fox and Megatron and Starscream being a married couple, so when I was drafting Megatron's flashback for this chapter my brain pounded on the table and went "Lincoln Memorial Scene!" Hopefully, it makes up for the angst in the rest of the chapter.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Megatron and Starscream attend different meetings on different days while trying not to think about the shooting or each other.

After struggling to button up her shirt and pin back her hair for nearly an hour on her first day back in her apartment, Megatron punched a hole in her bedroom wall with her good hand and called Soundwave, who arrived with a six-pack of barrettes, an ice pack, and a black coffee. Megatron made a mental note to give her a raise.

“Suggestion.” Soundwave eyed the hole in the drywall and her obviously not slept-in bed.

Megatron sensed where the conversation was going. “I’m not talking to a head doctor.”

“I was merely going to suggest that perhaps you find another outlet for your anger.”

“The doctor said I needed to stay off the shooting range for at least six months, or I could permanently damage my arm.” _And my normal shouting match partner decided to stab me in the back and fuck off to San Francisco._

Soundwave, perhaps sensing her thoughts, didn’t press the issue. But that afternoon, she sent Megatron an email informing her that there was a new treadmill en route to her house.

<Send it back.> Megatron texted her.

<Negative.>

<I don’t want you spending your money on something this big.>

<I used your credit card number.>

Megatron snorted. <Fine.>

<Suggestion: Use the treadmill.>

<You are aware that you work for me, right? I give the orders.> Soundwave responded with a gif of a man staring into the camera with a deadpan expression. Megatron didn’t understand the reference, so she let the matter drop.

Setting up the treadmill successfully killed most of the afternoon on the first day. It wasn’t a punching bag or a target she could blow holes in, but it did help with her insomnia.

Her surgeon had told her to take a week off, which she successfully negotiated down to three days. The forced break was a combination of teeth-grinding anxiety and mind-numbing boredom. Mostly she read through the boxes of briefings that Soundwave had dropped off at her house and drafted her legislative plans for the next year. A news blog in San Francisco had set up a YouTube channel and regularly posted videos of political campaign events happening around the city, and she took to watching Starscream talk about transportation and technology in schools while the miles ticked away on the treadmill.

* * *

On her first day back at the office, she went to the White House for a meeting, allegedly about the shooting. She had met with Prime many times over their terms in office, and they generally fell on a scale between “bad” and “catastrophic.” But she figured it couldn’t be worse than getting shot.

Prime wasn’t in the Oval Office when Jazz unceremoniously ushered her in, but someone else was. “Senator!” Rodimus jumped off the blue-and-white striped couch. “You’re back at work already?”

“I wasn’t that badly injured.” Rodimus awkwardly shook her good hand.

“What you did that day—I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

“It was nothing.”

“You saved my life. That’s not nothing. Do you think that’s nothing? Because—”

“No, Madam Mayor, I just meant it’s something anyone would have done.”

“Really? Anyone would have jumped from cutting a ribbon with giant scissors to dropping an assassin like a trained sniper?”

“I am a trained sniper.”

Rodimus rolled her eyes. “Yes, I knew that, I was trying to make a point.”

Megatron was about to respond when a voice cut in. “Good afternoon.”

“Opti—Madam President.” Rodimus darted over like she wanted to hug her cousin and then hesitated. “Should I—”

“I’m okay, Rodimus,” Rodimus nodded and gave her a quick sideways hug. Optimus patted her shoulder and then inclined her head towards Megatron. “Senator.” Prime was thinner, and she had the drawn look on her face that people got when they stayed in a hospital for a long time, but her handshake was as firm as ever.

“Prime. I trust you are doing well?”

“About as well as can be expected. And you?”

“Fine.”

Prime sat down, folding her hands on the Oval Office desk, gesturing for Rodimus and the majority leader to sit at the two chairs across from her. Megatron propped her cast on the mahogany armrest.

“So, is there a specific bill of mine you wish to tell me you plan to veto, or is this just going to be a general exchange of pleasantries?”

Optimus pushed two of the folders on her desk across the table. “I’m sure you two have been hearing a lot about Men’s Enduring Cultural Heritage, or MECH, in the past week.” 

“Yeah.” Rodimus nodded. “The shooter was a member, wasn’t he? I read his manifesto.”

“A long-term member. For the most part, the organization stayed limited in small clusters in the Southwest.”

“I know this group.” Megatron looked at a page detailing their various logos. “They sent me death threats when I first ran for office.”

“Really?” Prime said, looking surprised. “I didn’t know that.”

“Well, their Texas chapter disbanded shortly afterward so the issue didn’t come up again.”

There was a very pregnant pause, and then the president cleared her throat. “Anyway, since the advent of social media their membership has nearly doubled.”

Megatron folded her hands on the desk. “So, Prime, how did your FBI miss that? Were they too busy calling me a tyrant?”

Optimus rubbed her temples. “Megatron, inviting you here was a gesture of respect, I was hoping you would respond in kind.”

The senator glared at her. “Fine. I’ll ask politely. Did everyone in the FBI have the flu? Or did was it a spontaneous decision to do nothing for the fun of it?”

“We were keeping an eye on larger domestic terrorist organizations. I wouldn’t say stopping the bombings of two abortion clinics and passing the most comprehensive gun-control bill in decades was nothing.”

“Guys?” Rodimus half-raised her hand. Megatron ignored her.

“The bill wouldn’t have passed if I hadn’t gotten the gun lobby to back off.”

“Oh, I suppose I’m supposed to thank you for doing your job?”

“This might come as a shock to you, Prime, but it’s not actually the Senate’s _job_ to do what the White House tells it to.”

“It’s not the Senate’s job to actively work against the president, either, Megatron.”

“If you don’t want me working against you, stop proposing terrible bills.”

“Guys!” Rodimus was louder this time. Megatron had actually forgotten she was in the room.

“Yes, Rodimus?” Prime looked guilty.

“God, are you always like this? Okay, I was looking at my binder and...” She pulled out a picture “Who’s this shady looking-dude?”

“Ah, yes.” Prime leaned closer to look at the picture. “Silas. Age sixty-seven. A former Black Ops agent and conspiracy theorist who wanted to share his ideas with the world. He founded MECH in 1994.”

Megatron shifted in her chair. Her shoulder was beginning to throb. “ _The New York Times_ did a report on this yesterday, is it really all that your FBI could find out?”

“Actually, Megatron, it wasn’t. If you turn to page three, you’ll see that Mirage found out that in 2014 Silas began communicating with his estranged half-brother, Leland Bishop.”

Megatron actually hadn’t expected that. “ _Bishop?_ The lunatic millionaire who runs Frac Tech and owns Vulpes News?”

“Yes, that one. Glad to know you’ve heard of him. ”

“I swear to God, Prime—”

Rodimus cleared her throat loudly. “Anyway...”

“My apologies, Rodimus. Anyway, an offshore bank account under the name Wilks started transferring large amounts of money to MECH about four years ago. 'Wilks' appears to be an alias for Bishop. if you look at the graph on page thirty-four, you can see there’s a noticeable increase in their social media output at that time, and they become far more sophisticated. Wheeljack suspects they’re using an algorithm to micro-target individuals and radicalize them politically.” She turned a page, pointing at another graph. “We also have reason to believe that Bishop has also been purchasing weapons and shipping them to the MECH headquarters in Nevada.”

“Oof.” Rodimus pulled the graph across the desk to look at it. “So why the school opening?”

“According to the shooter’s official manifesto, the education bill is a reflection of the—” Optimus cleared her throat “—corrupt legacy of the political deep state, offering handouts of valuable resources to the dead weight on our great country while ignoring the real Americans who suffer.”

Megatron snorted bitterly. “And by real Americans, I assume he means the white ones.”

“For once, you’re not wrong.”

Rodimus was still looking at her folder. “Holy moly. Some of this—”

Optimus nodded. “I know.”

“This shit is fucking _insane!_ Mags already panics every time I want to go out to the gyro place on the corner for lunch. If she saw this she’d have a heart attack ” She sighed. “What does Mirage say about preventing the next attack?”

“That’s why I asked you to come here, Rodimus. I want your office to put together a model plan to address the problem in metropolitan centers. Right now we’re seeing a rise in hate crimes. And people don’t feel safe reporting them, and I honestly don’t blame them. We need to radically transform the way our law enforcement targets the vulnerable.”

“Two of the members of the group that sent me death threats back in ‘03 were cops,” Megatron remembered.

“Another thing I’m concerned about is how we’re going to reach young people getting radicalized online. I certainly don’t know how to reach people through the internet. But young people like you, Rodimus. Domestic terrorism thrives on fear, and I need you to give the people hope.”

Megatron snorted. “Touching.”

Optimus glared at her. “Rodimus, Prowl and Mirage have a more detailed briefing for you in the Roosevelt Room. The majority leader and I need to talk privately.”

Rodimus glanced between the two of them. “Um, okay? I’ll just—” She pointed over her shoulder. “Yeah. Um, talk to you soon?”

She left, and the atmosphere in the room dropped ten degrees.

“All right, Prime.” Megatron folded her hands on the desk. “You had your little family reunion, what exactly were you hoping to discuss with me?”

“Well, first I want to know more about what exactly you did in 2003.”

“Calm yourself, Prime, I merely made sure that they knew it was in their best interest to dismantle the organization.”

“That’s deliberately vague.”

“Soundwave sent a list of their weekend activities to their places of work and local newspapers. Forgive me if the safety of the vulnerable populations I swore to protect was more important to me than the jobs of neo-reactionaries.”

“So you didn’t kill any of them?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Christ.” Prime put her face in her hands for a moment. “Okay, why don’t we put a pin in that?”

“Really? No lecture about morality in the face of evil?”

“There’s a great deal going on, and as much as I would like to have you put under investigation for dabbling in vigilantism, it wouldn’t do very much to fix the bigger problems in our country now.”

Megatron snorted. “I wouldn’t have needed to ‘dabble’ in anything if there hadn’t been people threatening my life.” She remembered the threatening letters, first stuffed in her mailbox and then later tied to a brick and thrown through her window. And she had been someone with the power to fight back. Others hadn’t.  

Optimus looked at her for a long moment, and Megatron wondered what she was thinking. Prime did a very impressive deadpan stare, although of course, no one could match Soundwave. “All right. If we’re going to combat domestic terrorism, the country needs a unified government. _We_ need to be a unified force. Right now, my approval ratings are in the high sixties right now and the last time your seat was competitive was years ago—right before you got selected for majority whip, right?”

_“You—well—you want to be majority whip, right?” Starscream made a sweeping gesture, her eyes glittering. “The seat’s open and you’re the obvious choice.”_

Megatron mentally brushed away the memory of a different office, a different meeting. “That’s correct. So you want what, a truce?”

“A temporary truce.” Optimus slid another folder across her desk. “Here’s what I’m thinking. We pull back on the attack ads for the last month of the campaign.”

“Really, Prime?”

“Attacks on our credibility give MECH more chum to feed on.”

Megatron raised an eyebrow. “Your credibility, you mean. People know I’m ruthless and underhanded and everything else you say about me, that’s why I get reelected. It’s not my fault it’s so easy to poke holes in your saintly persona.”

Prime glared at her. “I’m not a saint, Megatron. I’m surprised you haven’t figured that out, given how many years you’ve opposed me and lost.”

“Touche.”

“Look, I would love to argue about the effectiveness of negative campaign ads for another hour, but I don’t have the time. In that folder is my plan to address MECH. We start by going after Bishop and cutting off their funding. That means we need a comprehensive campaign finance reform bill during my first hundred days and an in-depth investigation into Frac Tech. Our offices can work together to draft the bill and coordinate who we want to subpoena.”

Megatron opened the folder and gave the first page a cursory glance. “Hm.”

“I’m not asking you to back off on everything, I just think it would be beneficial for our offices to work together on combating this threat, considering MECH seem to consider the both of us equally un-American.” Megatron didn’t respond, flipping through the pages. Optimus sighed. “Can we skip the ‘wait the other person out’ trick and get right to where you tell me what you want?”

“Fine.” Megatron closed the folder. “Immigration reform.”

“It’s part of my platform.”

“I’m aware. I want it in your inauguration speech. You’ll say it’s a top priority in your first hundred days.”

Prime nodded “Very well. You pass the bill, I’ll sign it. Anything else?”

“Funding to look into respiratory disease for ex-coal miners. The amounts allocated in your last two budgets have been pitiful.”

“I can do that if you stop trying to cut the State Department’s microcredits program.”

“Fine. I’ll lay off of it this year.”

There was a long pause, and Megatron cleared her throat. “I suppose I should thank you for saving my life.”

The president smiled wryly. “And I should thank you for eliminating the threat before anyone else could get hurt, and protecting my cousin.” She cleared her throat. “Or we could call it even and leave it there.”

Megatron nodded. “I’m in favor of leaving it there.”

“As am I.”

They shook on it.

* * *

It was mid-afternoon, but the sun hadn’t bothered to come out, so the morning fog had hardly burned away. The Panhandle reminded Starscream of the horror stories she liked to read back when she had free time to actually read books, where the idiot protagonist wandered into a fog-shrouded forest and got murdered. Of course, she told herself, the Panhandle was too small to house more than a very small monster. And in any case, monsters didn’t scare her anymore.  

When Windblade had suggested meeting for coffee to discuss the invitation to a mayoral conference in Washington he had received she had happily agreed. It was a chance to get away from Skywarp and Thundercracker shooting her worried looks and shooing her away from screens. Thundercracker had even hidden her supply of alcohol “because you’re recovering from a _concussion,_  Screamer!” She didn’t know nearly enough about what had happened after the shooting. A newspaper in the coffee shop she and Windblade had stopped in had a picture of Megatron leaving the White House, but Starscream couldn’t really see her face, just that her arm was in a sling.

It was nice seeing Windblade again for about five minutes, and then she remembered why working with him annoyed her.

“Look, this isn’t just a meeting, it’s an opportunity to size up your competition for the governor’s mansion. Everyone else is going to be trying to find out how to stab each other in the back when the race rolls around.”

“Or...” Windblade gestured with his Americano. “Perhaps they’ll be discussing the best way to combat domestic terrorism? You know, what the meeting is for?”

“You’re adorable.”

“Starscream, I want to build a better future, not size up my colleagues like they’re my enemies.”

“They are your enemies. Everyone is your enemy unless you have something on them.”

“You sound like a third-rate mob boss. Where did you even learn this kind of garbage? Did Meg—”

“Excuse me, I would be a first-rate mob boss. And I learned this _years_ before I even went to Washington. My parents taught me and Skywarp the same cut-throat philosophy they utilized when they built the Vos empire with just American elbow grease and their wits.” She took a sip of her white chocolate mocha. “And of course, wildly unregulated markets and a fair amount of tax fraud. That’s another Vos rule: cheat when you can.”

Windblade groaned. “I cannot believe I’m working with you.”

“Look, someone is going to come up to you and ask how you’re doing. You’ll mention going out to dinner with Chromia. Maybe you talk about the wine you tried. Then suddenly news that you paid eighty bucks for a bottle of wine makes the rounds on Twitter. Someone invents a snappy hashtag. The next weekend, boom!” She gestured for effect, nearly spilling her drink on the mayor. “ _The LA Times_ runs an article about how out of touch you are. All of a sudden, everything you order for the next three years is news.” She was a little out of breath, caught up in the imaginary scenario she had spun. “Then, a week before the election, you eat an expensive taco and it swings a crucial percentage in middle-class neighborhoods. All because you didn’t—”

“All right. You’ve made your point. So should I just refuse to talk to anyone at the convention?”

“I have a better idea. Bring me with you.”

“No.”

“Come _on_ , Windblade!”

“I want to come up with a viable solution to drive white nationalism out of California, not theorize about what will and will not get me elected governor.” Windblade took another sip of his Americano, frowning.

“That’s why you bring me. I’ll deal with the dirty political shit so you’ll be free to plan D-Day on Twitter or whatever you all come up with.” She took a final drag of her mocha and threw it at the nearest trash can for emphasis. It missed. “Fuck.”

Windblade handed her a tiny bottle of hand sanitizer after she threw the cup out. “You wouldn’t just want to come to help me out.”

“I’m offended you would think that. Your success is tremendously very important to me.” She patted Windblade’s shoulder. “It’s pretty rare to find a person I don’t absolutely hate in our line of work. So what do you say?”

“I’m not saying anything until you tell me what you want out of this.” Windblade glared at her. “Stop trying to sell me something and talk to me like a colleague.”

“Ugh.” Starscream wished she hadn’t drunk her mocha so quickly, her head was starting to throb. “Fine. TC and I have been drafting some legislation to combat domestic terrorism and going to this conference would show that I have a better understanding of the topic. And...” She already knew she was going to regret sharing this part. “TC told me my poll numbers are better when I go to events with you.”

Windblade laughed. “Really?”

“Yes. Apparently, you make me appear more ‘relatable.’ Which is bullshit. Relatability is a social construct.”

“So that’s why you’re so eager to come to Washington?”

“It’s one of the reasons.” She didn’t plan on sharing the other one with Windblade, or anyone else. Her personal reasons were her own.

“All right.” Windblade tossed his own empty cup in the nearest trash can. “I’m probably going to regret this but sure, fine.”

Starscream clapped him on the back. “You’re not going to regret this.”

“I already regret this. If you take advantage of this, I swear you will never work with my office again.”

“Come on, you can trust me.”

Windblade groaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me starting this story: I need to pick one canon and stick with it  
> Me now: *throws various canons into a martini blender* Come and get your juice, kids!  
> Frac Tech is actually real. It’s the company that backs PragerU, home of such hits as “We Should All Stand For The National Anthem,” “Make Men Masculine Again,” and my personal unfavorite: “Why You Should Be A Nationalist.” You can read more about them here.  
> https://rewire.news/article/2015/04/30/conservatives-spend-millions-proselytizing-school-children/  
> Up next, Starscream goes to Washington with absolutely no personal reasons for doing so.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip to Washington, a confrontation, and a phone call, in that order. Also mimosas (not in that order).

“Is it always this humid here?" Windblade took off his blazer as they walked up the Capitol steps and draped it over his arm.

“Yup.” Starscream ran a hand through her hair. It was behaving, thanks to her half-hour long anti-humidity treatment. “The city’s built on a fucking swamp because Alexander Hamilton wanted a central bank and Thomas Jefferson wanted a capital further south.”

“Yes, I know. I saw _Hamilton_ too.”

“Oh? Did you see the original cast? I did.”

Windblade looked decidedly unimpressed. “Good for you.”

“Which cast did you see?”

“I just saw it a few months ago. Chromia and I were saving it for our fifth anniversary.”

“That’s so romantic, I might puke.” She held one of the doors open for Windblade and they walked into the entryway. The smell—old paper, cracking paint, and polished marble—was achingly familiar. She hadn’t expected to miss it.

“Starscream?” Windblade was giving her an odd look.

She cleared her throat. “Where’s the meeting?”

“The third-floor reception hall, and then we’re going over the Douglass Library of Congress for the rest of it.” Windblade checked his phone. “I think it would be good if you went to the Jordan building to meet with the West Coast bloc and then came straight over afterward? ”

“I was—” Starscream noticed her over Windblade’s shoulder. “Actually, that sounds great,” she finished, casually stepping out of behind one of the tall columns.

“Do you think it would be a good idea to—”

“Windblade, you should hurry or you’ll miss the opening statements.” She spun him around and nudged him towards the stairs. “Go, I’ll see you soon.”

Windblade eyed her suspiciously. “What’s going on with you?”

“I got this, okay? Don’t worry.”

“You’re not going to say something about the need to gut your enemies like a fish or something?”

Even though she was in a hurry she couldn’t let that stand. “I would never say something that cliche!”

“That’s absolutely something you would say! You spent the whole flight here waxing poetic about tax fraud.”

“Not the whole flight!”  She glanced over her shoulder. ”Okay, bye. Also—” She snapped her fingers, remembering what she’d wanted to tell Windblade. “Don’t talk to the mayors of San Diego or LA, they’re both gunning for the governor’s mansion and that means they’re chomping at the bit to kneecap you.”

“There it is. Bye Starscream.”

Megatron had disappeared down one of the hallways and Starscream followed, making sure to stay far behind her. She remembered her first days in Washington as a lobbyist for Vos Airlines—how the air in a room seemed to change when Megatron entered. Megatron stopped at the coffee vending machine near the tunnel to the Senate office building, and Starscream ducked behind another pillar. _This is ridiculous_ , she told herself, but she didn’t stop watching her.

She just needed to see for herself that Megatron wasn’t in a hospital bed anymore. The older woman placed her cup of coffee on top of the vending machine and rubbed her temple, the way she always did when she had a tension headache. Starscream leaned out further to look. Megatron had dark circles under her eyes—Starscream remembered buying foundation for her before a television appearance. She wondered if Megatron still had it. Her left arm was in a cast, which meant she couldn’t shoot. _God, she must hate that_.

It was at that moment that her phone, which she had stuffed into her tiny skirt pocket instead of her purse because she was in a hurry, decided to fall out of her pocket with a loud clatter. _Fuck!_ Starscream grabbed it off the ground and dove back behind the pillar so quickly that she nearly whacked her head on the stone and gave herself another concussion. She could hear Megatron’s footsteps coming closer. _Fuck. Please anyone if you’re up there listening, please don’t let her find me here, fucking please_. There was no possible way to explain this. She wasn’t even sure if she could explain this to herself.

Well, that was a lie. She could. But she really, really didn’t want to.

She heard the sound of a phone vibrating. Her first stupid thought was that it was her own phone betraying her again but it was off when she checked so—

“Soundwave.” Megatron’s voice was close, she was probably right on the other side of the pillar. “Are you sure? All right, I’m on my way.” Her voice began to recede down the hallway and Starscream scrambled back to her feet and leaned against the pillar.

* * *

The meeting with the West Coast bloc went better than she had expected, and she’d also run into a Politico reporter and given him a quote. And it had been picked up by several other news sources by the time she had a chance to check her Twitter feed. Windblade had stepped out to talk to Chromia and the phone call was taking longer than she expected. Everyone else had left for lunch. They would be fashionably late, which was good—and she could use social media to figure out where the movers and shakers were going.

Starscream didn’t look up when she heard someone walk in and close the door. “Windblade, I think we should go to the Occidental. I think I can arrange a run-in with someone from the _Post._ ”

“I assume you’ll order the most expensive thing on the menu?”

She spun around her heart in her throat. “Megatron.”

“Starscream.”

“Why are you here?”

“I work here, princess. Did you forget that?”

She felt foolish, the way Megatron could always make her feel with just a sentence. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. Why are you at this event?”

Megatron’s expression didn’t change. “I wanted to see you.”

“Well, I don’t want to see you.”

“Really?” She raised an eyebrow. “It must have been someone else I saw hiding behind a pillar and watching me this morning.” Panic washed over her in an icy wave.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m here for professional reasons.”

“Yes, you’re here to attend a mayoral conference with Windblade. He’s a good partner, isn’t he?”

“Are you—” Today just kept getting more and more surreal. “Are you  _jealous_? Of Windblade?”

The senator glared at her. “Absolutely not.” But she didn’t meet her eyes.

“God, you’re so fucking possessive. Why are you so obsessed with me?”

“I wasn’t the one hiding behind a pillar this morning.”

“You absolute—”

Megatron kept talking. “That night. When the shooting happened. You said something to me. What was it?” _There was no way, she couldn’t have heard it, she was unconscious. I saw it._

“I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t even there, I flew to California right after the shooting.”

Megatron walked across the room, pushing aside a swivel chair. “Soundwave told me you were there.”  Starscream could see the faint scar across her temple, the strands of hair that had escaped her bun. She remembered seeing that same scar so many times—when she was sitting next to the majority leader in policy meetings, when Megatron had pushed her back on her office couch and was bending down to kiss her, and that night in the hospital room under the harsh fluorescent lights...

“Of course she did.” Megatron took her hand and Starscream looked away from her face, biting down on her lip. She’d forced herself to put how Megatron’s touch felt out of her head but feeling the older woman’s warm fingers brushing her wrist ripped away any distance she’d been able to put up between her and the memories.

“What did you say?”

“I didn’t—I wasn’t there.”

Megatron took a step closer, brushing her hair behind her ear. “You were. Tell me the truth, Starscream.”

Starscream leaned closer to Megatron, not meeting her eyes. “I thought you were going to die.” She had lost so much blood. Starscream had seen it soaking into the carpeted stage that day.

“I didn’t.”

It had been so easy to say it when Megatron was unconscious. She had wanted to choose the last words she said to Megatron, to have a moment when it was just the two of them again. “Megatron, I—” Starscream looked up at the older woman’s face, and she heard Megatron’s voice in her head, as clearly as if the majority leader had said the words.

_“You were nothing before you started working for me.”_

“No.” Starscream took a step back, and then another, even as every cell in her body ached to be closer. “I’m not telling you anything. You don’t get to say the things you did and then ask me what I think about you.”

* * *

Starscream turned to leave and Megatron spoke without thinking. “I wanted you to stay.”

The girl’s expression didn’t change. “Sure.”

“Starscream, I—” Words were her specialty and yet she couldn’t think of any that could make her understand. “I couldn’t imagine working in this city without you.”

Starscream laughed, high-pitched and furious. On instinct, Megatron reached out again and Starscream slapped her hand away, glaring at her.

“Don’t you fucking touch me!”

“I’m not—”

“I sat next to you in meetings for fucking _years_ Megatron, do you really think I don’t know what it sounds like when you bullshit people?”

“Starscream—”

“Oh, you don’t think you’re bullshitting me, but you _so_ are.” Megatron was surprised at how vicious her voice was. “ _I wanted you to stay, Starscream_. Fuck off.”

“Is it really so impossible to believe?”

“I believe you wanted me to stay. After all, who else would be your bitch?”

“You know you’re more than that.”

Starscream started laughing again. “If I was more than that, you wouldn’t have told me I would be a terrible congresswoman. You wouldn’t have forced my hand on the endorsement. You wouldn’t have threatened my political capital for no other reason except to get me under your control again. ”

“You _left!_ ” She remembered Starscream’s short email again, how it felt like being punched in the gut.

“Because you gave me no choice! Because I knew you would never see me as anyone but a person who ran around Washington following your orders!”

Megatron snorted. “It’s not like you had a great track record on following my orders.”

Starscream huffed out a frustrated breath, putting her hands on her hips. “Don’t get technical. You know what I mean.”

Megatron took a step closer to her, glaring. “You don’t get to walk away from the majority leader’s office. You signed up to be on my team. That meant you were supposed to be loyal to me, not to stab me in the back.”

“Are you mad that I stepped down to run for office, or are you mad that I did something without your _permission_ , your worship?” She bowed sarcastically.

“Careful, Starscream.”

Starscream crossed her arms, her pretty eyes glittering. “What, are you going to punish me? Have I been a bad girl?”

“Stop that.”

“Or what?”

“Don’t push me, brat.” She took a step closer to Starscream and she could see her lower lip tremble, the way it always did when she was nervous or angry or frustrated. Starscream took a step back, bumping into the desk.

“I’m not fucking scared of you.”

Megatron leaned closer, placing her hands on either side of the desk. “Then you’re either lying, or you’re very, very stupid.” Starscream glanced down at her mouth, and then closed her eyes, inhaling shakily.

“You—you can’t bully me into doing what you want. Do you really think if you can hurt me enough I’ll come back?”

“Starscream—” She was cut off by Starscream shoving her away.

“Shut up! I’m not—I’m not _yours_. You told me I was nothing.”

“I didn’t—”

“You didn’t _what?_ You didn’t want to hurt me? Well, it’s great that you care about that now, but you clearly fucking didn’t back in March. And I know that because you taught me how to see it, just like you taught me how to shoot. So you don’t get to complain when I use what I know.” Starscream grabbed her purse and clicked out the door, slamming it behind her.

* * *

Megatron had somehow ended up at a quiet bar between her townhouse and the Senate building, which she frequented sometimes after work. She had her first-edition Virginia Woolf novel that she’d been planning to re-read and three new bills about domestic terrorism stuffed in her briefcase, so of course, she was staring at a blurry photo of Starscream and Windblade on some reporter’s Twitter account.

_“Do you really think if you can hurt me enough I’ll come back?”_

She was used to hurting people. You couldn’t get things done if you were constantly worried about feelings. And Starscream understood that. It wasn’t personal, it never was, it was part of the larger game. This wasn’t any different. It wasn’t. She had wanted her chief of staff to stay on so she told her what she thought would make that happen. It was the kind of thing that happened all the time in their line of work.

That wasn’t the only reason, and she knew that. She had wanted _Starscream,_ not just her chief of staff—she had wanted the late nights in her office, the stolen moments in the nearest hallway closet between meetings, the warm weight of the girl in her lap when she woke up from a nightmare. Those weren’t political things.

_“You don’t get to say the things you did and then ask me what I think about you.”_

She was about half-finished with her second drink and had read about three sentences of her book when—

“Megatron, hi!” Great. Just when she thought her day couldn’t get any worse. “Small world, right? Is this seat taken?”

“Yes.”

Rodimus sat down anyway, grinning at the bartender. “Can I get a mimosa?”

The bartender looked confused. Megatron sighed and closed her book. “Just put it on my tab. And get me a refill. A double.”

“So you’re feeling better?”

“Somewhat.”

“Should you be drinking so much on pain meds?”

“I don’t take pain medication, Rodimus.”

“But you were _shot_! God, you and my cousin are so stoic, it’s nuts.” The bartender slid their drinks across the fake wood countertop, and Rodimus pounced on hers. “Oh my god, the toothpick has a little American flag on it!” She took a sip, leaving a bright half-circle of burnt orange lipstick on the rim of the glass.

“Your cousin should be happy.” Megatron resigned herself to a conversation. “She’s in the lock for a landslide victory.”

Rodimus tilted her head to the side, regarding her. “You know, I was wondering. If you hate her so much, why didn’t you run against her?”

“I don’t like the personality contest.” Blitzwing was enjoying the campaign trail, even if she didn’t have a chance in hell. And it kept her out of Washington so she didn’t pose a serious threat to the House Whip position, which meant that Tarn wouldn’t try for the speakership and anger Shockwave. In return, Shockwave had promised to give her the final say on committee assignments. It was an extremely delicate balance that took time and effort to maintain. A presidential campaign was, comparatively, a walk in the park. “The legislative branch is where you can make a legitimate change, and no one knows Congress better than I do.”

“So you’d never consider a career change?”

Megatron stared at her incredulously. “Like what, working for a think tank?”

“No, like an executive branch position.”

“Under your cousin? Are you insane?”

“No! God, no. With me. When I run for, you know—” She gestured at a framed picture of the White House on the barroom wall.

Megatron really looked at her for the first time. “So you are running?”

“Yeah!” She nodded. “I mean, Optimus is always telling me she believes in me. I don’t know. Like, I ran for mayor and I didn’t really expect to win but the incumbent was just—he was just a fucking idiot. He was in bed with insurance companies and corporations and he fucking vetoed this green energy jobs bill I had tried so hard to get passed and it just made me so mad. And I had a degree and no idea what I wanted to do, so I just thought _fuck it_. And then I won!”

“Must be nice.” Megatron remembered her own first campaign—the bricks thrown through her window, Sentinel's people watching her at events. She had averaged maybe four or five hours of sleep on a good week. “To have it all unfold so perfectly for you.”

“I guess. Suddenly people were looking at me like I had all these answers, and I had gotten what I wanted but I didn’t know what to do with it. I was panicking but I couldn’t like, show it or I’d look weak.”

“That’s the job.”

The mayor rolled her eyes. “Yeah, that’s what everyone says. But when it got bad? I just needed someone to _tell me_ that I could do it. That I wasn’t an idiot to think I’d be good at the job. I don’t think anyone can just do it alone. If I didn’t have Mags and Drift in my office I would have had a breakdown in the first week.”

“Touching.”

“It is, actually! When I told Mags I wanted to run I was half expecting her to tell me I was stupid, that I would never make it, but she told me that she knew I could do it. She just...” Rodimus gestured with her half-empty glass. “She believed in me when I needed to hear it. And we achieved something.”

Megatron pushed her empty glass across the bar.

“Are you all right?” Rodimus gave her an odd look. “Is it the pain meds?”

“I already told you, I’m not taking pain meds.”

“You should be.”

“Why do you _care_ , exactly? And don’t you have anything better to do than irritate people who are minding their own business?”

Rodimus raised her hands defensively, nearly spilling her mimosa. “Dude, there’s no need to get hostile.”

Starscream’s voice echoed in her head again _“I knew you would never see me as anyone but a person who ran around Washington following your orders.”_

“Is it, um, the angry woman from California? Starscream?”

Megatron felt her blood turn to ice. She turned to glare at Rodimus. “Why the _hell_ would you bring her up?”

“Well, Optimus said—”

“Oh, _Optimus said._  What did your esteemed cousin say about me and Starscream?” She was surprised by the bitterness in her voice.

“Well, she has a lot of things to say about you two.” Rodimus half-laughed. “But what I was thinking of was something she said a few months ago, after, you know—” She gestured. “The shooting and the hospital and shit. She said she’d never seen two people more in denial of their feelings.”

Megatron felt like she’d gotten shot again, this time in the chest. “Oh.” She gestured at the bartender to refill her glass clearing her throat. “Your cousin is somehow more of an idiot than you are.”

Rodimus laughed. “My mom always told me that when someone calls you an idiot it’s because they know they’ve lost the argument. You want my advice?”

“No.”

“One of you is going to have to talk first.”

“Rodimus!” Ultra Magnus pushed the bar door open. She looked out of breath and highly irritated. “I turned around for _five minutes_ , how the hell did you get here?”

“I was bored! You’re not my babysitter. C’mon, Mags. Sit down, have a drink.”

“Absolutely not. Next time, wait for me to get off the phone before wandering off to have drinks with the literal spawn of the devil.” Megatron raised her glass in a mock salute and Ultra Magnus glared at her. “Now come on, we have to get back to the conference.” She grabbed Rodimus’s arm and pulled her off the bar stool.

“I’ll think about the offer, Rodimus.”

Rodimus beamed at her. “Really?”

 _Absolutely not_. “Sure.” She smirked at Ultra Magnus, who looked like she was going to have a heart attack.

“Whatever the offer was, it’s redacted!”

Rodimus waved as she was dragged away.

* * *

**Three weeks later**

Thundercracker and Skywarp’s entire apartment smelled like bleach, the result of Buster getting into a grocery bag. Thundercracker had rushed him to the vet, but not before he’d thrown up several times.

“This is why it’s bad to eat things that you aren’t supposed to.” Skywarp knelt next to Buster’s bed. “I know my gourmet beef jerky smells good. That doesn’t mean you have to eat it.”

Buster made a soft gurgling noise. He looked like a very small furry throw pillow.

Starscream dispassionately glanced over from her laptop. “This is why it’s a bad idea to bring an animal into your home.”

Thundercracker threw a pillow at her. “Lay off Buster! He doesn’t know any better.”

“TC, it’s T-minus ten minutes until Shockwave sends me the committee email, can we focus on the campaign for a bit?” It had taken her several extensive phone calls and promised favors to even get Shockwave to let her know what committee she was on track to be assigned to.

“You’ve been telling me for the almost two weeks that the committee assignments don’t matter and I should treat it like it’s nothing and suddenly today you’re freaking out about it, Screamer. Make up your mind.” Thundercracker scratched behind Buster’s ears. “You’re a silly boy, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

Starscream groaned. “It doesn’t matter but I need to know how shitty it’s going to be. Megatron told me she’d do whatever it took to destroy my political capital, and part of that means I’m going to get a terrible committee assignment and we’re going to have to know what it is so I know how to respond. TC, do you have a game plan?”

Thundercracker reluctantly stood and grabbed one of the binders piled on nearly every flat surface in the apartment. “Here’s ‘Committee Assignments.’ And I also have a section on it in the ‘Contacts’ binder, if you want to look at it.”

“Yeah.” Starscream refreshed her inbox again. “She should have emailed me by now, Shockwave is never late.” She shoved her laptop across the table. “I’m going to call her.”

Thundercracker lunged for her phone. “That might not be a good—” She managed to grab it, Starscream tried to yank it back, and the chair skidded across the room and crashed into the wall.

“TC, give it back!”

“It’s my responsibility to stop you from making stupid decisions! Drop it!” Buster looked up from his bed, confused. “Not you, Buster, sorry!”

“Seriously?” The chair tipped over and they crashed on the floor, just as Starscream’s laptop dinged cheerfully. Both women froze.

“That’s probably Shockwave.” Thundercracker struggled to sit up. “Do you see why calling her might have been a bad idea? The email probably got delayed.”

“Your elbow is in my face.”

Skywarp’s purple sneakers appear in the corner of her eye. “I love it when I’m the mature one.” Her twin lifted the chair off of them and extended a hand to help Thundercracker up.

“You have a Care Bear tattoo,” Starscream said, scrambling to her feet. “If you have one of those you’re never the mature one. You’ve ceded that ground forever.”

“Fuck off, there’s nothing more mature than being proud of niche interests.”  

The laptop dinged again. Starscream looked over at it and then at Thundercracker.

“I don’t want to know.”

Thundercracker shook her head. “Me either.”

“I’ll do it!” Skywarp bounded over to Starscream’s laptop, propping her elbows on the table. Starscream and Thundercracker watched her for a long minute. “Okay, Screamer, I’m confused.”

“By what, exactly, Warp? Did Shockwave write it in Mandarin?”

“No, asshole. Shockwave says you’ve been assigned to the Ways and Means Committee and you said—”

“What the fuck?” Starscream leaned over her sister’s shoulder to read Shockwave’s email, expecting the words would rearrange themselves into something that actually made sense. “No, this isn’t—”

Megatron had told her she would do whatever it took to destroy her political capital, and she had meant it, she knew what Megatron sounded like when she meant something.

“Screamer.” Thundercracker’s voice brought her back to reality. “This is good, right? I mean, I didn’t have a plan on the books for it but I can make one, and it’s a really powerful committee—”

“Where’s my phone?” She frantically looked around the room, spotting it under the couch and scrambling for it.

“Okay, no, you’re not calling Shockwave. Didn’t we just have this conversation?”

“I’m not calling Shockwave.” She dialed, holding her phone away from Thundercracker, who grabbed for it.

“Starscream, give me your phone.”

“No.” Starscream bolted for the balcony door, locking it behind her and wedging a patio chair under its handle. Thundercracker glared at her through the window and she turned around so her back was facing the door, hitting the call button.

“Starscream.”

“What the hell are you up to?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“Stop it. I know you were behind this. There’s no way that Shockwave would sign off on putting me on Ways and Means without you giving her the nod. So I’m going to ask again: what the _hell_ are you up to?”

“Oh, you got your committee assignment?”

“Stop fucking with me, Megatron! Why would you have me put on the Ways and Means committee? What are you trying to pull?”

“Starscream, as hard as it might be for you to believe, I didn’t make this decision with any personal motivation in mind. Shockwave asked me to recommend a list of congresspersons who would do well on the Ways and Means Committee and I selected you because I believed you were one of those congresspersons. Or you will be, come election day.”

Starscream sank down into the other patio chair. Skywarp had written UNLOCK THE DOOR on a notepad and was holding it up against the glass. She flipped her off and turned the chair around, wincing at the metallic screech it made. “I’m not taking your fucking bribe.”

“This isn’t a bribe. I am simply rewarding potential when I see it. It would be a mistake to see someone with such a bright future assigned to something that wasted her talent.”

“Are you—” She noticed her hand shaking and she closed it into a fist, letting her nails dig into her palm. “This doesn’t change anything.”

“I know.” For the first time, Megatron wasn’t teasing, and that somehow was worse. “I don’t expect it to. Starscream, you’re—you are going to be an _incredible_ congresswoman, and if I ever made you feel like you weren’t good enough, I—” Megatron paused for a moment. “I am sorry. And I’m not just saying that for personal reasons, I’m saying it because I know I’ll need you on my side in the next session. Even if you never want to see me in private again. Because you are good at what you do, Starscream.”

Starscream tried to place Megatron’s tone and couldn’t. She’d worked by Megatron’s side for years and she had never heard her sound like this. It was almost regret but it couldn’t be, because Megatron didn’t regret anything, especially when it came to her.

She thought about what she’d whispered to her that night in the hospital.

“I have to go.”

She hung up. Thundercracker was banging on the glass door and she knew she needed to open the door but she had no idea how to explain what had just happened.

She remembered being knocked off her feet the first time she had fired a gun, years ago on Megatron’s shooting range, how her stomach had dropped as she fell. She felt the same way now—off balance, her high heels slipping in the dust. Only now, no one was there to catch her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned out a lot more angsty than I expected it to be and I'm sorry. Again, there is a happy ending, I promise
> 
> Buster's experience is based on an experience with my own dog. She ate an entire bag of chocolate covered espresso beans and was rushed to the vet. Everything was fine (but she did throw up a lot) and the vet gave her stomach medicine and like a...rehydration pouch? And she slept a lot. Anyway if you have pets, never assume they can't get to a container unless it's behind a door that can only be opened by someone with opposable thumbs.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starscream, after a great deal of internal struggle, decides to make a phone call

The last few weeks of the campaign went by in a blur. Starscream smiled and waved and didn’t sleep more than two hours at a time. Skywarp and Thundercracker kept shooting each other worried looks behind her back, which she tried not to notice.

Election day was chilly and grey. She and Windblade met at the high school that had been designated as their polling station and posed for a photo with their “I Voted” stickers. She nearly tripped walking down the narrow concrete steps and Windblade steadied her.

“Are you doing all right?”

Starscream slammed the car door behind her. “Did TC tell you to say that?”

Windblade raised an eyebrow, reaching down to plug his phone into the car charger. “No, but the fact that she’s also asking you that question should tell you something.”

“Fuck off.”

“Look, I get it. I never sleep in the last week of the campaign either. Chromia threatened to call my mom yesterday morning when he came downstairs and found me asleep at the kitchen table.”

Starscream stirred her white chocolate mocha with her straw. “My mother is dead, Windblade.”

“Okay, Batman. But seriously, there's something going on with you. Is it the shooting? Because I’ve been having nightmares about it and I wasn’t there.”

The mental image of Megatron collapsing on the stage flashed into her head for the third time that day, and she squeezed her eyes shut. “No.” She could sense Windblade’s skepticism.

“Huh. Well, the only other time I can remember you being this irritable was after you met with Meg--”

“Just shut the fuck up!” She jammed her plastic cup back into its cupholder, wishing she could punch something.

“Whoa.” Windblade sat back in his seat. “All right then.”

“I’m not--” _Nice job, idiot._ “Look, it’s just been--the campaign, and the shooting, and everything--”

“Hey, I’m doing a campaign too, Starscream. I get it.” Windblade checked the charge on his phone and sighed. “I get it.”

Starscream stared out the window, watching the fog shifting from light to dark grey and back again. “ _Starscream, you’re--you are going to be an incredible congresswoman, and if I ever made you feel like you weren’t good enough, I--I am sorry.”_ She rested her forehead on the cool glass, cursing her stupid fucking emotions.

“You’re not weak, you know.”

“What?”

“What you’re feeling. It doesn’t make you weak.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Windblade.”

“Fine. I’m not your life coach. I’m just saying, shoving everything you feel behind a curtain and ignoring it won’t make you a better congresswoman.”

“I’m not ignoring anything.” The car stopped.

“You know, Starscream, even though you’re one of the most frustrating people I’ve ever met, I sometimes genuinely think we could be something like friends.” Windblade unplugged his phone “But you have to stop fucking pretending that all you need to survive in this world is yourself.”

“I’m not pretending, that’s how the world works.”

“No one gets where they are without other people. Okay, Starscream? Believe me, you’re not alone.”

* * *

“I should just call her. I mean what could go wrong, right? I’ll just call her and say--what? What should I say? How the fuck do you even start this fucking conversation?”

Buster tilted his head to the side and regarded her with his abnormally large brown eyes.

“You’re useless.”

“Screamer, have you seen--” Thundercracker stuck her head into the office. “Oh, Buster, there you are!”

“I told you to keep him out of my office.”

“It seems like the two of you are getting along.”

“He’s a dog. The relationship is completely one-sided.”

Thundercracker rolled her eyes and scooped up Buster, tucking him under her arm. “All right. I have you scheduled for a one o’clock meeting with the _Chronicle_. From there, you have two election day GOTV events, one with Windblade. Also, you’ve got an appearance on CNN at seven. Try to be on time, I don’t want to have to send them another apology basket.” She scratched behind Buster’s ears. “That was a pain, wasn’t it sweetheart?”

Starscream turned her phone off and dropped it on her desk. “TC, you’ve really busted your ass these past few months.”

“That’s the job, isn’t it? Most of it was fun, actually--you know how much I love color-coded binders. I mean the whole part with the shooting wasn’t great but--”

“Yeah, I get it. I just wanted to say, uh,” _Just say the words, come on._ “Th--thank you. For um, campaign managing.”

“Did you get another concussion? Let me see your eyes.” Thundercracker tilted her chin up with the hand that wasn’t holding Buster. Starscream swatted her away.

“No! God, I just wanted to say something nice, thanks for ruining it.”

“Wow. Um, okay. You’re welcome.” This was why Starscream hated being _nice_ , because shit always got so fucking _weird_. “You know you’re family, Screamer, right?”

“Okay, weirdo.”

Thundercracker patted her shoulder. “Be on time for CNN, and I’ll see you tonight.”

“See you tonight. Oh, and close my office door!”

She took a deep breath and picked her phone back up, scrolling through her contact list. _I can do this. I can, and I will_.

“Starscream.” Megatron’s voice sounded rougher, the way it did after a few cigarettes.

“I need you to not talk for sixty seconds. Can you do that?”

There was a somewhat staticky pause on the other end of the line. “All right,” Megatron said wryly. “Go ahead.”

“You were right--” Megatron made a surprised noise on the other end of the line. “Shut up. I meant about the hospital. I was there that night.” She wasn’t sure what to say next. “Okay, you can talk. Ask me why.”

“Why?” Megatron asked, with exaggerated patience.

“Because of what you said. Before. I couldn’t--” _God,_ this was so much easier to say in her head. “I couldn’t imagine working in that city without you either.”

“Really?”

“I asked you not to talk!”

“It’s been sixty seconds.”

“Just...shut up anyway. I need to say this now.” She paused, sucking in another breath. “I know how things work in what we do. I know there’s no such thing as church and state. That’s half the reason why I like it. But if you ever, and I mean _ever_ cut me down to keep me in your bed again then I’m fucking gone.” Megatron didn’t say anything. “You can talk again.”

“Starscream...” The almost-softness in Megatron’s voice made her throat feel tight and she swallowed hard to clear the feeling away. "Are you telling me that there's a chance that you're not already gone?"

"You hurt me."

"I know. It was wrong."

Starscream swiped angrily at her eyes. "There's a chance. Megatron."

“What did you say? That night, after the shooting?”

“Why do you--” Her voice cracked and she grabbed for her white chocolate mocha, taking a sip and clearing her throat. “I told you not to die.”

“Did you say anything else?”

“Maybe.”

“What was it?”

“I’ll tell you next time I see you.”

“And when might that be?”

“The Four Seasons.”

“What?”

“San Francisco has an election night celebration tonight. It’s at the Four Seasons on Market Street.” Starscream hung up before Megatron could say anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day late because of exams but here we go lesbians!  
> I saw in some of the comments on the last chapter that Skywarp's Care Bear tattoo was a hit, and if you liked it I would recommend checking out @virtual_nemisis on twitter b/c it was inspired by their amazing Thunderwarp art.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long-awaited reunion. With rosé.

“Congratulations, Congresswoman.”

Starscream turned, unsure what the feeling in the pit of her stomach was. “Did you catch my victory speech?”

“No, but Soundwave got me a draft. It wasn’t bad. Could have been better.”

“It was excellent, and you know it.” She took another drag of her cigarette, looking up at the night sky. Only the brightest stars were visible--she could make out Venus and a reddish one she assumed was Mars.

Megatron plucked the cigarette out of her mouth and held it to her own lips, inhaling. Starscream pretended not to watch. “I’m congratulating my former chief of staff on her electoral victory. Nothing odd about that.”

“Of course not. You endorsed me, after all.” Megatron didn’t say anything but Starscream could see a shadow come over her face. She deliberately looked away, worried about what she would say if their eyes met. The memory of Megatron’s mouth on hers, her hands on her skin in the closet flashed into her head, and she shivered. “I mean, yes, I had to blackmail your office to get you to do it, but I think that it ultimately turned out well. For both of us.” She licked her lips, relishing how Megatron’s dark eyes followed her mouth.

The senator shifted towards her, just slightly, and she could feel the tension in her stance. “It’s nice to know you’re still incapable of taking things seriously.”

Starscream snatched the cigarette back, needing something to hold onto. “So next session should be fun. I have some ideas for the budget.”

“Careful, princess. You’re not in charge of all of Congress yet.”

Starscream blew a stream of smoke into the night sky, listening for the bitterness in Megatron’s voice, but it wasn’t there.“Oh, I know. Do you know what else I know? Optimus Prime just won reelection. If you want to stand up to her, you’ll need allies. And how would it look if your former chief of staff didn’t support your legislation?”

She met Megatron’s eyes, expecting the older woman to be angry, but she looked oddly pleased. “You won’t believe me, but I am proud of you.”

Starscream laughed wryly. “Praise from Megatron twice in one night? What a fucking rarity.”

“Starscream...” Megatron took the cigarette back, inhaling and then exhaling slowly. The smoke looked oddly mesmerizing in the red and purple neon lights. “I’ve always seen potential in you.”

“I don’t need you to tell me that I’m valuable. I know that I am.”

“Of course.” She held the cigarette to Starscream’s lips. “I’m telling you anyway.” They stood in silence for a moment, their shoulders just brushing. Starscream could feel the years of late nights and insults and strategizing in the simple touch. She remembered Megatron looking at her on the shooting range, years ago when everything was different. Even after everything, she could still smell the gunpowder and the hot Texas dust, like they were still caught in that moment. Her chest ached. “Prime’s victory is temporary. Real power isn’t measured in presidential terms. Soon, she’ll be a footnote in a textbook, and Washington will be mine.” She paused for a moment. “Ours.”

Starscream forgot she wasn’t looking at Megatron and met her eyes, not sure if she had heard correctly. “Ours?”

“For better or for worse.”

The ache rose up in her throat, and she had to swallow hard to get the words out. “In sickness or in health?”

“Till death do us part.” Megatron took another drag of the cigarette. Starscream plucked it out of her hand. She paused, and then slid her hand into the other woman’s, intertwining their fingers.

“You missed me, didn’t you?”

Megatron squeezed her hand, tightly enough that she knew the answer was _yes_. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten that you’re a traitor.”

“And you’re a possessive idiot who relies too heavily on pretentious quotes in her speeches.” But she squeezed Megatron’s hand back. “Aren’t you going to ask me what I said in the hospital?”

Megatron stroked the back of her hand with her thumb. “You’ll tell me when you’re ready.”

”I need to get back inside. They’ll be waiting for me.” She hesitated, looking down at their hands. “Megatron?”

“Yes, princess?”

Starscream dropped the cigarette on the ground, crushing it under her stiletto, and pulled Megatron’s face down to hers, pressing their lips together. It was a short kiss that tasted like cigarettes, the same kind of kiss they had shared hundreds of times during afternoons at the office, in hotel rooms at midnight, early in the morning when they were both half-awake and sprawled on her apartment couch. Megatron smoothed her hair behind her ear. _Say it now_ , she told herself, feeling like she was about to jump off a cliff. It had been so much easier to say it to her when she was unconscious.

Megatron stroked her cheek when they broke her apart, a stupid fond look on her face.

“I--” They looked at each other for a moment longer, and then Starscream forced herself to step back and adjust her blazer. “I really do have to go.”

“All right.”

“Do you want to come in? There’s an open bar.”

Megatron pulled a cigarette box out of her pocket, removing one. Starscream sternly ordered herself not to stare at her hands. “I won’t interfere with your night, princess.”

“Did you tell Soundwave to look up my address?”

Megatron laughed at that. “You released your tax returns, so it’s in the public domain. Is that your version of an invitation?”

“Maybe. We can discuss my transportation bill.”

“It’ll never pass.”

“That’s what you think.” She allowed herself one glance over her shoulder at the senator, silhouetted by the soft neon lights.

* * *

“So this is where you live,” Megatron said, looking around her airy open concept penthouse.

“Yup.” Starscream shrugged her coat off and threw it on the couch. “Did you think I slept in a coffin or something?”

“Maybe.”

“You wish.” Starscream glanced over her shoulder as she walked into her kitchen. The senator was looking at her bookshelf.

“And _this_ is where my copy of _America the Unusual_ went.”

“I meant to give it back to you once I finished it.”

Megatron chuckled. “Of course you did.”

“Shut up.” She pulled the bottle of wine she’d bought the week she announced out of her fridge. “Have you ever had rosé from Covert Estate?”

“I don’t drink rosé, princess.”

Starscream rolled her eyes. “Well, you do tonight. God, you and your pretentious hard liquor.”

“What movie is this?” Megatron was looking at her movie posters now. She noticed her hands were trembling a little on the corkscrew as she opened the bottle, which didn’t make sense because she wasn’t nervous. It was just odd--seeing the senator in her apartment.

“ _Annihilation._  It’s kind of science fiction, kind of fantasy, kind of speculative.”

“When did you see it?”

“I went with Skywarp last year when I was home.”

“Is it about aliens?”

“No. Well, kind of. It’s complicated. I own it now, actually.” _We can watch it sometime_ , she almost said, and then she realized how bizarre that sounded--her and Megatron casually watching a movie together on a weekend, like they were--She shook her head to clear away the thoughts. The senator was looking at the yellowing Teen Vogue cover she had framed on her coffee table. “It was my first big profile,” she said. “I saved the cover.”

“A rising star. I remember this.”

Starscream rolled her eyes and opened another cabinet. Skywarp hadn’t put the wine glasses away in their proper place the last time she was over, even after she’d asked her to multiple times. Oh, there they were, wedged behind her rapidly-growing mug collection. “Do you want something to eat? I haven't been to the grocery store in months but I swiped some mints from tonight’s party and they’re pretty good.”

“I’m all right, princess.” The senator’s voice came from behind her and she jumped before she could stop herself.

“God, warn me next time! I almost spilled the wine, and I’ve been waiting to drink this for fucking months.”

“My apologies.” Megatron squeezed her shoulder as she poured the wine and Starscream could feel the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of her blouse. “I should have known you’d only have mints and rosé in your apartment.”

“Takeout exists for a reason.” She remembered Megatron boiling water for pasta in her Washington townhouse while she worked on a memo about the Congressional budget and bit her lip. “Here.” Starscream handed Megatron one of the wine glasses and tapped them together. “To victory.”

Megatron smiled faintly. “To victory.” She brushed a lock of Starscream’s hair behind her ear and Starscream glanced down at her glass. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing. Why do you think something’s going on?”

“I know you, Starscream, and on a night like this, I’d expect you to be triumphantly crowing about your plans for world domination. But you’re tense. And jumpy.”

“I am not _jumpy!_ ”

“You almost spilled the wine because I said I didn’t want anything to eat.”

“I almost spilled the wine because you fucking snuck up on me, which--” She gasped, pointing at Megatron. “You did that because you didn’t want to drink the rosé, didn’t you?”

Megatron looked her up and down in a way that made her acutely aware of the space between the two of them. “I’ll readily admit that I didn’t come here with the intention of drinking rosé, Starscream.”

“Well, your scheme didn’t succeed. So drink up.” They drank, Megatron wincing a little.

“It tastes like the bastard child of a strawberry and a rose.”

“Shut up, it’s delicious. You’re just afraid to admit you like sweet things because it might ruin your reputation as a badass.”

Megatron smirked at her. “Starscream, are you saying you think I’m a ‘badass?’”

Something cold settled in her stomach. She took another gulp of wine and turned away. “No. You’re an idiot.”

“There it is again. What is going on with you?” Megatron reached out for her and she pulled away.

“I’m fine.”

“Starscream.” She wished Megatron sounded angry. Anger was something she could handle. But she sounded sad, and Starscream could count on one hand the number of times she had heard Megatron sound sad. “Are you still upset about--”

She whirled back around to face her. “No, I’m not upset, just shut up!” _Fuck_ , her eyes were burning and she knew drinking was a bad idea. “You’re just such an idiot, I swear. I mean, who the _fuck_ tries to take out a shooter _on their own_ when the fucking Secret Service are on location?”

A look of understanding flashed across the senator’s face. “It was a moment of crisis, and I did what was necessary.”

“You could have fucking _died!”_

“Don’t you think I know that, you fool?”

They stared at each other for a moment, and Starscream looked at the dark circles under Megatron’s eyes and the scar on her temple. “You can’t just--make me feel--I thought I hated you, I _did_ hate you, and then you almost _died,_ and I thought I’d never get to talk to you again or touch you or--” She grabbed her wineglass off the kitchen island and drank the rest of it to stop the non-stop stream of humiliating word-vomit.

“Hey.” Megatron took the glass out of her hand and put it back on the island. “Come here.”

“I’m not upset.”

“I know. Come here.” Starscream couldn’t hold back a half-gasp half-sob as Megatron pulled her close. The older woman rubbed a slow circle in the middle of her back, humming soothingly, which was _stupid,_ she didn’t _need_ Megatron to comfort her, she wasn’t upset about something that had happened _months_ ago because she wasn’t some stupid emotional _idiot_. “It’s all right.” She felt Megatron’s hand on her hair, her touch a little awkward but achingly familiar, and she squeezed her eyes shut. They stood like that for a long moment. Megatron’s heartbeat was steady, she could hear it in the silence. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I don’t believe you.” Starscream craned her neck back to glare at the senator. “Your impulse is always to do the stupidest thing possible.”

Megatron raised an eyebrow. “Starscream, you’re the last person who should be criticizing anyone on making stupid impulsive decisions.”

“If you bring up the debt ceiling crisis again I swear--”

The senator laughed, stroking her cheek. “All right, princess, I won’t go there.” Her expression darkened. “I can’t promise that something like that won’t happen again, though. I don’t want to lie to you.”

Starscream looked at her tired face. She thought about how Megatron still never slept through the night, how her eyes went somewhere else whenever there was live music that got too loud. For years, she had been telling herself that she didn’t care what happened to her, that she didn’t matter and whatever they had didn’t matter, and she was just so _tired._ And it had been so long since they’d been together without fighting. _Come on._ She pulled Megatron’s face down and pressed their lips together, trying to push down the feeling of panic. _Just say it. Say it now._

“What I said that night at the hospital--”

“--You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want--”

“I love you.” Saying it made her feel like a tremendous weight had been lifted from her shoulders.  

Megatron stared at her, stunned. “Starscream...”

“Please don’t say anything sappy and make me regret this--”

Megatron kissed her again, this one lasting longer, practically lifting Starscream off her feet. When they finally broke apart, the senator held her face in her hands, looking at her like she was something precious. “I love you too, Starscream.”

Starscream’s cheeks burned. “I told you not to--”

Megatron leaned in and swallowed her words with another kiss, and she couldn’t hold back a soft moan as Megatron bit her lower lip. The older woman chuckled and it made something warm and delicious wash over her. “How about this? I won’t _say_ anything sappy. Let me _show_ you what I feel.”

“That--” Megatron nipped at the soft place on her throat and she gasped. “--That qualifies as sappy.”

Megatron brushed her lips against her ear. “Does that mean you want me to stop?”

Starscream shivered. “No, Megatron”

“All right.” The senator kissed along her jaw, pulling away briefly to murmur “Bedroom?”  

She cleared her throat. “Second door down the hall.”

Megatron guided her backward and she barely realized where she was until the backs of her knees bumped against her bed and then she was lying on her back, watching Megatron take off her suit jacket and unbutton her shirt. She was beautiful, Starscream thought, watching her hands, and something in her chest ached. Megatron noticed her looking and raised an eyebrow and she looked away, her face heating up.

“Relax.” Gentle fingers found the zipper on her sheath dress with practiced ease, lifting her slightly so Megatron could tug it down and off. She expected the senator to pin her down, to crush their mouths together, and anticipation buzzed under her skin. But when her touch came, it was light, stroking up her neck and into her hair, scratching over her scalp. Megatron chuckled. “Gorgeous.”

Heat washed over her as the senator kissed between her breasts.

“Did you put perfume here?”

“I--” She wasn’t sure why that made her heart beat faster.  Megatron looked up at her, smiling. “Yes.”

“It’s nice. I’ve missed your perfume.” Her hands were on Starscream’s stomach now, rubbing in slow circles, and she wasn’t sure why the feeling was so intense, why her eyes were prickling like she was going to cry. “Where else do you put it?”

“I don’t see why that’s important for you to know.” She was half-hoping that she would make Megatron angry, but the older woman seemed unperturbed.

“Let’s see. I know you put a little here--” She leaned over to kiss Starscream’s wrist, inhaling deeply. Starscream bit her lip to hold back a gasp. “And here, too.” Lips brushed over the pulse point on her neck and she propped herself up on her elbows to glare at Megatron.

“No marks.”

Megatron kissed up higher, under her ear. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Starscream gripped the duvet in her fists, squeezing her eyes shut, and she felt Megatron’s hands gently stroking her cheeks. “Hey.” She opened her eyes and the senator’s expression was warmer than she could ever remember it being. “Don’t hide from me.”

Heat prickled under her skin. “Senator--” Her voice choked off as Megatron pressed a kiss to the soft spot under her jaw that always made her insides go liquid.

“You still like that?” She made a soft noise and the Megatron laughed, rubbing her hip. “Relax, okay?”

She shook her head, staring up at Megatron, who was smiling faintly. “Why are you doing this?”

“I missed you.” The senator traced her tattoo. “I missed this.”

“You can just fuck me, okay? It doesn’t have to be, like, a thing.”

“Maybe I want it to be a thing, princess.”

“Senator--”

“Lie back, okay?” Starscream slowly eased back off her elbows, swallowing hard to clear the tightness in her throat. “Good girl.”

“You don’t have to--”

“I know. I want to.” Megatron kissed the hollow of her throat, mercilessly gentle, and the anticipation made her shiver. “Beautiful.” Her hands were steady, the way they always were. “Brilliant. Magnificent.”

Starscream couldn’t hold back a noise that sounded embarrassingly like a sob--what was _wrong_ with her, they’d done this so many times before, there was no reason for this to feel different--and Megatron hummed soothingly.

“Here.” She pressed her wrist into Starscream’s palm. ”Show me where you want me to touch you.”

Starscream couldn’t look away from her face. “Megatron--”

“Show me.” She guided Megatron’s hand down, over her stomach and the tattoos that she had gotten in what felt like another lifetime, tugging her red satin underwear down with her other hand. A slow smile spread across Megatron’s face as Starscream moved her hand to the right spot. “So wet.”

“You stupid--” She gasped as Megatron moved her fingers. “Oh--oh god, Megatron.”

“That’s it.” Megatron kissed her cheek. “You’re doing so well for me.”

“Please--” Starscream pressed Megatron’s hand further into her, gasping out Megatron’s name again as she got closer and closer to the edge. It was as if nothing else in the world existed except for the two of them, Megatron’s lips brushing her ear as she murmured soft words of encouragement, their fingers intertwining. The pleasure built and built, until she was breathless and gasping, and then Megatron kissed the spot behind her ear again and the tension from the past weeks and months unraveled all at once, heat washing over her in tingling waves.

Megatron chuckled. “I’ll never get over watching you like this.”

“Shut up.” Starscream pulled her down for a kiss because she didn’t think she could say anything else. Needing something to focus on, she traced the bandage on the senator’s shoulder. Megatron shivered slightly, but she didn’t pull away, letting her climb into her lap and push her backward. It was odd, seeing Megatron lying against the expensive sheets she’d bought herself for her birthday last year. Not a bad odd just--something she hadn’t expected to ever happen. She glanced at the bandage again.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.” Starscream leaned down and kissed the bandage, not sure what she wanted to say but trying to say it without words, stroking the scars that underscored her ribcage with her thumb. Megatron never talked about her scars--except sometimes, when her brow furrowed and she murmured in her sleep.

Starscream kissed at the constellation of scars on her hip bone, glancing up at Megatron’s face.

“Lie back.”

“Starscream, you don’t have to--”

“I know. I want to.”   

She squeezed the older woman’s thighs. A slow smile spread across Megatron’s face and she reached down with one hand to curl her fingers into Starscream’s hair, letting out a shaky breath as Starscream went to work.

“Starscream.” Megatron’s voice was rougher, less polished. Starscream hummed in response, and Megatron gasped. “I--” She tugged on her hair, and Starscream pressed into her hand, hoping she’d do it again. Her breath hitched when Starscream stroked behind her knee, tracing the intricate pattern of scars. “Starscream,” she said again, her voice more desperate and Starscream felt her thighs tense. She hummed again, looking up to meet the senator’s eyes and Megatron moaned, a low satisfied sound, her body relaxing under Starscream’s hands. Starscream sat back.

“How was that, your worship?”

Megatron traced one of the tattoos on her waist, looking up at her. _“I made you, and take you made into me.”_

“If you’re going to quote poetry, I’m leaving.” She made to get up and Megatron moved quickly, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her back onto the bed. In a moment, she was pinned down, looking up at the older woman. “I’m not finished with you.”

“No poetry.”

Megatron kissed her. “No promises.”

* * *

 Megatron looked out at the San Francisco skyline. Starscream’s bedroom had an entire wall of windows, and watching the city at night made her understand why the younger woman loved it so much.

Starscream was asleep on the bed next to her, and Megatron could feel her breath on her shoulder. Megatron didn’t want to wake her--she had such dark circles under her eyes. She pulled the duvet up to cover Starscream’s bare shoulder and smoothed her hair out of her face.

“Megatron?” Starscream made a soft noise, her eyes half-opening.

Megatron absently ran a hand over her hair. “Go back to sleep.”

“Why aren’t _you_ asleep? These are thousand thread count sheets, you know. Not the sandpaper you have at your apartment.”

“I’m not tired, Starscream.”

“C’mon.” She tugged on Megatron’s shoulder, and the senator slid down the pillows without meaning to. Megatron tried to sit up but Starscream climbed back into her lap before she could. “I know what you’re like when you’re haven’t slept.” She tucked her head under Megatron’s chin. “Do you still have nightmares?”

“Still?”

“I noticed when you had them, you know.” They were silent after that. Megatron kept her hand on Starscream’s back, and the steady rhythm of her breath lulled her to sleep, just as it had done so many times before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this chapter was the equivalent of walking up a hill, and every time you got to the top of the hill, there was an even BIGGER hill.  
> If you've read the epilogue of one of my previous fics about these two some of the dialogue might seem a little different. When I first wrote that scene I didn't know anything about what was going to happen in this fic (I'm no JK Rowling lmao), and when I came back to it after everything that happened there were some elements that needed to be reworked so it would fit in this story. At the moment I'm not planning on going back and replacing that part in "Let's Get Caught Downtown in the Whirlwind," but I guess I kind of wanted to mention it here?  
> Oh! And also, I noticed some people liked Skywarp's Care Bear tattoo a few chapters earlier. I can't take credit for that, it was born from some thunderwarp art made by my incredibly talented friend @virtual_nemesis and you should absolutely check out their art on Twitter.


	12. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The campaign season ends with an inauguration ball and everyone thinking about the future.

The inauguration ball Starscream had attended four years ago had felt like work. Tonight was more like the giddy hours of preparation before prom night. Skywarp and Thundercracker’s new apartment smelled like artisan pizza and hairspray and Buster excitedly wove between their legs, searching for crumbs.

“Is there a staircase around here, TC?” Skywarp leaned into the mirror to put in her shiny silver hoop earrings. The hairdresser had given her an intricate mohawk puff earlier that day, which she had paired with a dark purple suit and matching lipstick. “I need to watch you sweep down it in your dress and say ‘Wow, you look beautiful.’”

Starscream pretended to gag on one of the cupcakes she’d brought over from a nearby artisan bakery. “Can you two not be gross for one night?”

“Come on, Screamer.” Skywarp took a big bite of a red velvet cupcake, bending down to scratch Buster’s ears. “Appreciate the beauty in the world.”

Starscream rolled her eyes. “Are you high, ‘Warp?”

“I’m high on life.” Skywarp licked frosting off her fingers. “I’m high on working at the nation’s capital. I’m high on my having the hottest date at the ball.”

Thundercracker blushed, glancing down at her full-skirted blue ball gown, and reached for another cupcake. “So, Screamer. Is Megatron going to be there tonight?”

Starscream choked on the devil’s food cupcake she’d half-finished. Skywarp pounded her on the back and she glared at Thundercracker. “I would assume so. She’s the majority leader of the Senate and Prime’s still pushing the unity bullshit because it apparently polls well.”

“Screamer...” Skywarp groaned. “She wasn’t talking about politics, and you know it.”

Starscream adjusted her earrings, shrugging as casually as she could. “What’s there to say? We had a very productive chat yesterday about modernizing transportation, and I’ve agreed to meet with her for dinner later this week regarding a solar energy bill.”

Thundercracker snorted, bending down to affectionately brush some of the crumbs off of Skywarp’s face. “I heard the tail end of your last ‘productive meeting.’ It didn’t sound like you were discussing transportation.”

Starscream’s treacherous brain immediately volunteered a clip show of memories from the day--Megatron’s hands on her thighs, in her hair, her hands tied together over her head with the silk scarf she’d bought on her last week in San Francisco, the senator’s low voice purring _good girl_ into the hollow of her throat--and she glared at Thundercracker. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

Skywarp groaned. “If I was fucking a hot butch Washington powerhouse, you’d insist that I give you all the background details. Come on, tell us _something._ ”

“Fine.” Starscream finished off the last of her cupcake and leaned closer to the mirror to re-apply her lipstick. “You know how I told you I had a migraine and needed to leave work early last Friday?”

Thundercracker nodded. “Yeah.”

“I lied. Come on, our car is here.” She popped the rest of her cupcake into her mouth and jumped up to grab her purse. Skywarp and Thundercracker followed her out into the Washington night, which was cold and crisp and charged with the energy that always came with the weeks before a new session.

* * *

“Makers. Neat.” Megatron slid a twenty across the marble countertop and turned to survey the rapidly growing crowd. Prime and Elita had smiled politely through the first dance and then walked over to join Ironhide, Ratchet, and Arcee at their table. Optimus had mentioned immigration reform in her inaugural speech, as she had promised. Her speech had mostly been the usual fussy idealistic diplomacy that Prime was so well known for, but the usual saccharine optimism had been somewhat toned down. Since November, MECH had sent an envelope full of a mysterious white powder to the White House and planted an explosive in the Capitol parking lot. No one had been injured, but Prime had been furious.

“They grow stronger from our fear,” she had said grimly, standing tall in her dark blue winter coat. “We will not succumb to it, nor will we turn on our neighbors. In the face of reactionary ideas, we will instead turn to those we eyed with distrust and extend a hand of friendship.”

 _A little on the nose, Prime_ , Megatron had thought wryly as she applauded along with the inaugural crowd.

The music changed to something more upbeat, and she noticed Rodimus trying to pull Ultra Magnus on the dance floor. The mayor was wearing a short pink dress accented with shiny orange beads that shone under the lights. Soundwave and Shockwave walked off the dance floor to the table where Rumble and Frenzy were sitting with their nonalcoholic beverages, doubtlessly Snapchatting the event on their phones. Or was it instagramming? She wasn’t sure. Soundwave caught her eye and raised an eyebrow, one of the nonverbal signals the two of them had developed to communicate at events like these. Megatron nodded in response and turned to see that Prime had walked over to the bar while she had been watching the dancers. She shot Soundwave a quick look of gratitude.

“Not much of a dancer, Megatron?” 

“I’m not much of a ball person. But it’s apparently ‘important to be united right now,’ so here I am.”

“Your enthusiasm is invigorating.” Prime adjusted her red silk tie, nodding at the bartender as he handed her a seltzer and lime. “I hope you’ll bring more of this positive attitude to our strategy sessions.”

“I didn’t think you’d want a positive attitude at a meeting about domestic terrorism.”

“I need to know that my decision to work with you—a decision that was discouraged by my most trusted advisors, I might add—and if you do not follow through I will not think twice about terminating our alliance.”

“Prime, if you’re threatening me, I don’t think this ‘alliance’ is going to last.”

“I just want us both to go into this partnership with open eyes. It is not necessary for us to be friends, but I hope we can come from a place of mutual respect.”

Megatron drained her glass. “Fine. I assume this was a roundabout way of you asking me to come to the White House tomorrow for our anti-terrorism meeting?”

“It’s the first day of my new administration.”

“We already agreed on the Mosley Braun Building, Prime. You’re the one who keeps talking bipartisanship and a ‘united front,’ shouldn’t you make the effort?”

“Look, MECH’s most recent stunt happened in the White House. Having an event there would reassure people that it is still safe.”

“So would coming up with a plan in the agreed-upon spot.”

“Megatron, I don’t want to start off the term fighting about something stupid. Can’t we at least try to compromise on something?” The song ended and another one began, something bright and upbeat. Megatron heard an unmistakable laugh and looked back at the crowd. Sure enough, Starscream was there, flanked by her sister and her new chief of staff. She was wearing a tight floor-length gown that was exactly the same shade of silver as the one she had worn to the inauguration ball four years ago, the night they’d drunk expensive whiskey on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial and talked about the future. Starscream met her eyes for a moment and she smirked, tossing her head back. Her jewelry glittered under the ballroom lights. “Megatron?”

Megatron slid her empty glass across the bar. “You know what, Prime? We’ll have the meeting at the White House. But you’ll owe me a public meeting at the Mosley Braun Building at the end of the session.”

“All right.” They shook hands, which felt both like the right thing to do and ridiculous.

Megatron hoped the conversation was over, but Prime didn’t move to return to her table. She sighed, thinking  _I really dislike these events_ , and tried to think of something else to say. “I suppose I should congratulate you on your presidential victory. You must be very happy.”

Prime regarded her inscrutably. “I am happy, Megatron. Are you?”

Megatron laughed. “No one gets into this line of work to be _happy_ , Prime.”

“I don’t mean in your work. I mean you.”

“That’s hardly your concern.”

“I’m just curious.”

“At the moment?” Megatron watched Starscream laugh at something her sister said, tilting her head to the side in the bird-like way she always did. “Yes.”

* * *

Starscream could feel Megatron’s eyes on her as she danced with Skywarp and Thundercracker. They had been fashionably late by design, and the dance floor was crowded. After a few hours, stately waltzing had given way to something more casual. There were still dancing pairs—she noticed that the mayor of New York had pulled her stiff-looking chief of staff out to dance with her, and Windblade and Chromia were half-dancing, half-talking, their heads close together. But people were also moving less formally, swaying their hips and bumping shoulders and laughing.

She was no stranger to being looked at by other people—much of the past fifteen years of her life had circled around honing that power, the ability to wield a smile and easy charm like a scalpel. _You exist under a microscope,_  her mother had told her one night, her breath smelling sweet from the gluttonous cocktails that her parents always served at their parties.  _So use it._ When she picked out her clothes and painstakingly applied her makeup in the morning she tried to imagine what people would think when they saw her, how she could shape those thoughts to her advantage. Sometimes the stares made her feel powerful, other times they made her feel like a piece of meat on display at a butcher shop.

Megatron’s gaze felt different, though. She could feel it on her skin like the fizz of champagne fresh from the bottle. The music swelled, and she did a half-spin, swaying so the light would shimmer off her dress. Megatron took a sip of her drink, her lips twitching up into a smile. Her thumb caressed the rim of her glass, the same way she liked to stroke Starscream’s throat when they were tangled together in bed, and even though the room was crowded it was like they were the only two people there. It was nice to dance for a while with Skywarp and Thundercracker—they hadn’t been out at the clubs for a while but they still knew how to move together effortlessly. Skywarp spun her and caught Thundercracker at the same moment, laughing as Thundercracker twirled her. She wasn’t sure how many songs they danced, but she could feel Megatron’s eyes on her the entire time.

* * *

She finally cornered Starscream in the hallway outside the ballroom after nearly two hours of watching her moving on the dance floor like a siren, pinning her against the wall and kissing the smirk off her face. There was a long slit in her fancy skirt and Megatron could feel her dark brown satin stockings and a tantalizing brush of her skin through it. She was warm from the dance floor, her heart beating hummingbird-fast as Megatron lifted her off the floor.

“Someone will see.” Starscream shuddered as Megatron squeezed her hips, pressing her face into Megatron’s shoulder. “Megatron!”

Megatron knew she was right but she didn’t want to let go of Starscream for even the short amount of time it would take to call a car. “Wouldn’t you like that, princess? If I fucked you right up against this wall, where anyone could see us? You’d have to be quiet, so no one would hear you moaning for me.”

Starscream made a desperate noise, arching her back so their bodies were even closer together. “You’re not playing fair.”

“Oh, you’re hardly one to talk about playing fair, you little tease.” She bit Starscream’s bare shoulder and Starscream hissed, scraping her nails down her back.

“Did you like that? Watching me? I could feel you staring, you know. Thought I’d give you a show.”

Hunger washed through her, fierce and possessive, and she squeezed the pretty brat’s thigh and relished the noise she made, relished that she was the only one who could hear her this way, undone and beautiful. They lingered for a moment more and then Starscream pushed her back, sucking in a deep breath.

“Call a car.”

The car ride was nearly as torturous as watching her on the dance floor had been. They sat beside each other, tantalizing inches apart, every red light feeling like an eternity. Starscream said nothing when Megatron put her hand on her knee, but Megatron saw the corner of her pretty mouth quirk up. She asked Starscream questions about the upcoming session as her hand inched up her thigh, watching her as she struggled to keep her voice steady.

Starscream practically dragged her up the stairs to her bedroom once they were out of the car using her tie for leverage. Megatron chuckled. “Eager, princess?”

“I hate you.” Starscream shoved her back on the bed, straddling her waist.

“No you don’t.” Megatron reached for the zipper on the back of her dress but she shook her head, reaching behind her to unzip it herself and pulling it over her head in one fluid motion. She was wearing the lacy red bra and underwear combination that she usually saved for formal events.

“No.” Starscream took Megatron’s face in her hands, a sharp wicked smile on her face. “I don’t.”

She kissed her and Megatron leaned back, pulling Starscream down onto the bed with her. The night wouldn’t last forever, she knew. But after everything—after thinking she would never have a moment like this again—it was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay first, the tiny details--the Mosley Braun Building is what the Russell Building is called in this AU because fuck Richard Russell (why is there still a building in Washington named after him? Yikes.) Carol Mosley Braun was the first black female senator elected to Congress and among other things was one of the first women to wear pants on the Senate floor. Because that was illegal until 1993. Also yikes.  
> Moving on from that, I just want to say thank you to every single person who read this story and ESPECIALLy thank you to everyone who left a kudos or a review or otherwise reached out to me about it, y'all are incredible. This story was a labor of both love and multiple breakdowns and before I go I just want to encourage anyone reading this who's also considering making a story or some other form of art but have a little negative voice in the back of their head telling them it's silly or stupid to make that art anyway. Your ideas are good and you're talented, even if you don't believe it right now, so don't be afraid to be amazing. Anyway, hope you enjoyed the epilogue (and all the clothing descriptions rip). < 3


End file.
